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NARRATION
I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the
parents of William and Elizabeth Steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign
of the lion and I was raised in a lower middle class family with only one
brother Michael whom I love dearly. He was five years my senior. My father`s
nickname was Red which I could never understand why because his hair was
sandy blond. Nevertheless, the name stuck. So when my brother was born
my father became Big Red and my brother Little Red.
I should have known from the first time when I realized their special
connection, that I just didn`t fit in to my father`s plans. And as I grew
older the constant comparison between my brother and myself left little
doubt who was the image of perfection in my father`s eye. To him, my brother
could do no wrong and I became The Invisible boy, the proverbial 'black
sheep' and I soon figured out that red and black don`t mix. The beatings
I received became more and more frequent to the point where I would ask
my father "Am I the orphaned son you would never need"? But oddly enough
I worshipped the ground my father walked upon.
My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it`s hard to imagine we came from the same parents.
I sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed
that idea as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever
even think of such a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent`s
instilled insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was different
and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew over my
bed and christened me with a magic wand and said "You shall be the one."
And I had no idea what 'The one' was, but as I grew older I began to understand.
Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them like the Virgin
Mary but with her too my relationship was different and not for the good.
She
was opinionated, uneducated sometimes prejudiced, overbearing, believed
everything she read, true or not, and when it came to religion was over?zealous
to say the least. A mind boggling combination but she was pretty, very
pretty, and I would often wonder, bordering on complete confusion, how
a person of this description could rationalize life.
This was a series of characteristics that
many times in my life I would look back on in bewilderment and the women
I sought after when I was older would be nothing like her. In the pain
of youth, the misery of my neglect, would manifest itself in many ways;
depression my enemy, fear my friend, hatred my lover, and anger fuel for
my fire. These four characteristics of my personality would become the
guiding force of my life and would control everything I did or was to become.
I shall explain later in the story about them which I call my Four Doors
of Doom.
The mirror, the great plaything for man`s vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my alter of refuge and others, my alter ego and its magnificent
obsession with a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as a chilling
reflection of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the one place
I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise loveless
household, where I could be great, where I could be anything anyone wanted
to be one hundred percent pure escapism until I discovered its precious
secret. The mirror lives, it breathes, it talks, it lies, it has a personality
all its own. It is a genie that grants all the wishes you could ever dream,
at least in my case all except two. |
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