The Cage is Your Own
“I am not caging you, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Or rather I will be killed by Cutio if he finds out I took you outside to a crowded area. And I barely even have the approval to stand 5 kima (meters) beside you or anyone at all.
Donatello smacks my hands off him and waves his hands hysterically.
“You are! You are! You all are! You don’t know how I feel!” Donatello cries out.
My chest was burning. It became harder to breath with each passing moment. His words almost ruptured my lungs.
What part about not being understood did I not understand?
A moist feeling runs down my eyes. My sight was like petals in the rain, like when the petal touches the leaf, the suspension breaks and the dew slides down.
As warm as a white lie can be, there was a happiness I could feel for seeing this, which was so fickle and spontaneous. The happiness of me embracing the feeling of being the more pitiful one.
“Elo is not any worse than me. What a strange comfort.” I mocked myself.
It was in this heartbreaking truth I found clarity. I quickly chased his wailing arms with my own. And try to lock him in them.
It came to me as a surprise that he did not fight back. He might be tired from our struggle previously or he recognizes me.
The reason Donatello approaches me is because I have a great distinction among most people. And that is I am young but with white hair.
My figure is not intimidating even without consideration of my face. And my white set of locks stands out.
If it was not for this Elo might not recognize me at all.
Since he can’t see faces.