Super Rich Kids (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 17: Reality By Devin Richmond

While reading lets all try to remember that Devin is very much straight. :)

Don't hate me.
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From a third person perspective, looking on at the lives of others, it is easy to be empathetic. Like a web, I am connected to each and every person in my life. I hear their stories, willingly offering my attention and a compassionate point of view.

Sometimes I think it's the worst thing to be. Having too much empathy puts me in a position unlike anything that I would wish upon anyone else. It isn't a healthy amount of empathy, it is suffocating.

I have the constant urge to help others, because I  have forced myself to understand their pain-- forced myself to enter the depths of their mind and adopt their problems like they were my own.

And to think I would do anything to end their suffering. Embrace their troubles and accept their pain like a universal voodoo doll. I've seen so many people struggle... maybe I go searching for them, but I notice things. The gift of natural cognizance... but was it really gift?

Maybe I witness too much-- notice too many things.

Like the fact that Alexander is always lost in his mind. You could see it in the emptiness of his gaze and hear it in the way he spoke. I was happy to see him getting better, but the lingering sadness was still there.

I remember the distinct nights and early mornings that Alexander would find his way into my bedroom, a soft tired voice waking me up. "Devin, I can't sleep." He would say as he shook me awake. Though, I always knew it was more than that.

It wasn't just the insomnia that plagued him. It was being alone with thoughts that he could never escape from. The thoughts that threatened to push him over the edge.

So I would always sit up, run my fingers through his hair in silence, just so he wouldn't feel so alone at two or three o'clock in the morning. I tried to comfort him in anyway I could, but it was never really enough. What I could offer him was only a small fragment of the attention and care he needed. But it was something nonetheless.

It goes without say that as the oldest of our family I would carry most of the responsibility. But, I wasn't expecting to be completely in charge. I wasn't expecting for our parents to never be around or for my brother to suffer from depression. I wasn't expecting my siblings to harbor such animosity towards each other or for our family to fall into ruins, because it wasn't always like this.

We weren't always grasping at straws with each other. There was a time when things were normal-- almost platonic, but it didn't last long.

When Al was born I had never seen my parents happier. They glowed with pride, love and affection. The idea of having two sons to carry on their name was monumental for them and they expressed their love in the only way they knew how.

Money.

Alexander and I were given everything we could ever wish for. We were showered with gifts and materials, never short of the newest toys and name brand clothes.

And now, so many years later, it is hard to blame my parents. I'm older, wiser, and I try to empathize-- try to understand that to them, that was the right way to raise us. They didn't mean to stray-- didn't mean to fall into a world where work trumps family, but they did. And we all suffer for their stupid mistakes.

They wanted us to have everything we wanted, but they forgot to offer us their time and attention. They forgot to humble us, and forgot to enforce rules of sharing and caring. If it weren't for the maids we would have turned out to be bitter, selfish monsters just like them, and that in its self is a horrifying thought.