Oddity

40

"You want me to sing it?"

Mitch looked at me, bewildered.

"Yes," I replied simply, sitting cross-legged on his bed while he stood in front of me.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, "Eh, I'm not that good at singing," he waved me off as he said this.

I shook my head. His statement was very far from the truth. I liked Mitch's singing voice a lot, and I wanted him to sing the song I wrote.

"Yes, you are," I assured him. "Can you at least sing it through one time?"

I wanted to hear my writing be vocalized by my favorite person in my life.

Mitch looked back down at the lyrics, before sighing in defeat and sitting down next to me. I had given him a run-through of it already, and I had brought my keyboard with me to back him up.

"Ready?" I questioned hopefully, glancing at him.

He gave me a shy look, but nodded.

It was very hard to focus on my keyboard while Mitch sang. I just wanted to sit there and listen to his angelic voice. The chorus was the hardest part to get through, and a part of me just wanted to cry.

Once he was finished, he looked like he wanted to cry as well. I hugged onto him and reminded him how important he was.

He asked me if the lyrics really were how I felt. I told him I was not sure. I was only sure that I wanted to feel that way.

He assured me that it was possible if I just tried. He told me that I needed to stand my ground and be confident in myself.

But then I asked him: 

How is one supposed to strand their ground when everyone wants to bury them beneath it?

...

"If this is how you feel, then why weren't you ever just open with us?" Mom chided, before rubbing her face.

I looked down at the table, before glancing back at her as she folded my song unevenly and passed it back to me. I reminded her that I had been trying to be open with them for as long as I could remember. And I reminded her that she and Dad got mad at me for being myself.

She shook her head at me, looking disappointed.

"You can't use your disorder as an excuse for getting your brother hurt."

I wanted to tell her that Zack got hurt on his own accord, but I did not want to argue about it any longer.

I had just wanted to share my feelings with my parents, but it still turned around on me.

I should not have expected any different at this point.