leo {d11/cb3}

They say the world’s a place of color, but I can only see black and white.

And the two are conflicting enough for most things to be distinguished, good and evil and things of the sort. Yet there’s no detail to what I see, no finality to things that don’t sit on opposite range of the spectrum. I’ve never been a shade of grey, though that’s one of the few things I can see. Some call it crude when it’s fallen to one side and others call it bipolar when they’ve seen both in a short range of time, but it’s truly neither.

The call me clever because I sit enthralled in puzzles of numbers and letters, but they don’t realize that the only reason for this is that I can see these in full spectrum. It was hobby for a while, only an occasional scratch of pencil on paper but time turned it obsessive, and it seems that there’s hardly a moment my eyes aren’t turned to the page.

My brothers don’t comment on it like our parents do, but I suppose that’s due to the fact that we’re all pretty screwed over in general, each of us dragging along our own aliments. A lack of speech in one and a weak heart in another, yet we all shared the same brown eyes that sympathized if only with pity.

We’re sorry for each other in the worst kind of way, sorry only because we see ourselves in the sickness of another.

I guess that’s why I turn my eyes back to the page.

And when Atlas called me crazy for not gazing upon the world and its glory, I respond simply because there’s no complexity to it in the slightest.

“I just can’t see it.”

Leo Embry
District Eleven
Seventeen
oDair