Thinking...
I've been thinking more and more...
I never really came out and said to to myself.. but I realize just how cheated I've been by someone I never even met.
For Maria.
For the world.
For Shadow.
For the one I won't validate by speaking his (or is it her) name?
For grandmother, assuming she is even my real grandmother.
I will never know what I truly am, or what I come from. I will never know the peace of being free from government scrutiny--and for once, this isn't something I brought on myself. I will never be free of familial guilt. I will always have to look back on my past with shame--regardless of what people say or think now, I saw something in the information unveiled to us that they didn't--I saw a traitor in my family past, a traitor I once respected, admired, emulated.
I will never be at true peace.
My family name has been marred before it even came to me, and I bear the shame of my grandfather on my own shoulders.
I admired him. I respected him. I longed to be like him... and though he rectified his mistakes, he still betrayed everything he believed in, for what? For his research? For that monster? For Maria?
Maria, Maria, Maria. More beloved than me by my own parents. She was dead for eight years before I was born and yet, to my father's dying days, she was loved more than I was. And what the hell was she anyway? A brave hero, perhaps... but a person. A cousin. Not a son, not a child...
Assuming that my father is even my father.
I feel so lost, adrift... the past to which I anchored myself has been destroyed at its very foundation, reduced to a pile of rubble, consisting of the same components: the sweat of the wicked, the blood of the innocent, and the tears of everyone in between. All I have is an uncertain present and a painful recent past, and a constant reminder that I will never be the man I dreamed of being... or three.
But what can I do? Everyone who could have answers is dead.
What is the future without the past? Everything that's happened in my life has rested on the decisions--the mistakes--of Gerald Robotnik. To a lesser degree, of Maria, of Shadow, and of one who, fortunately, is now dead. Even my own beloved's choices, made before I was even born, has shaped my life. Do I even have any control? Has ending this latest saga freed me from the spell of fifty years ago, or is it just an illusion of freedom to be met with another piece of my grandfather's traitorous legacy?
Or are my shackles something much deeper? Do they lie within my person... within my mind, or even within my own DNA?
I hope... I pray, despite my lack of belief in any particular deity... that the hell of these recent years, of this last fifty years... is finally over.
I never really came out and said to to myself.. but I realize just how cheated I've been by someone I never even met.
For Maria.
For the world.
For Shadow.
For the one I won't validate by speaking his (or is it her) name?
For grandmother, assuming she is even my real grandmother.
I will never know what I truly am, or what I come from. I will never know the peace of being free from government scrutiny--and for once, this isn't something I brought on myself. I will never be free of familial guilt. I will always have to look back on my past with shame--regardless of what people say or think now, I saw something in the information unveiled to us that they didn't--I saw a traitor in my family past, a traitor I once respected, admired, emulated.
I will never be at true peace.
My family name has been marred before it even came to me, and I bear the shame of my grandfather on my own shoulders.
I admired him. I respected him. I longed to be like him... and though he rectified his mistakes, he still betrayed everything he believed in, for what? For his research? For that monster? For Maria?
Maria, Maria, Maria. More beloved than me by my own parents. She was dead for eight years before I was born and yet, to my father's dying days, she was loved more than I was. And what the hell was she anyway? A brave hero, perhaps... but a person. A cousin. Not a son, not a child...
Assuming that my father is even my father.
I feel so lost, adrift... the past to which I anchored myself has been destroyed at its very foundation, reduced to a pile of rubble, consisting of the same components: the sweat of the wicked, the blood of the innocent, and the tears of everyone in between. All I have is an uncertain present and a painful recent past, and a constant reminder that I will never be the man I dreamed of being... or three.
But what can I do? Everyone who could have answers is dead.
What is the future without the past? Everything that's happened in my life has rested on the decisions--the mistakes--of Gerald Robotnik. To a lesser degree, of Maria, of Shadow, and of one who, fortunately, is now dead. Even my own beloved's choices, made before I was even born, has shaped my life. Do I even have any control? Has ending this latest saga freed me from the spell of fifty years ago, or is it just an illusion of freedom to be met with another piece of my grandfather's traitorous legacy?
Or are my shackles something much deeper? Do they lie within my person... within my mind, or even within my own DNA?
I hope... I pray, despite my lack of belief in any particular deity... that the hell of these recent years, of this last fifty years... is finally over.