Perfection

He was sitting alone in his spacious room. The blinds were shut, it was dark. Only his desk lamp was giving him the light he needed. Smoke was hanging in a cloud, kissing the ceiling. The ashtray on Bills right was holding his cigarette for him. Papers covered the glass surface of his desk. All with sketches and lyrics on them. None of them were good enough, none of them represented Bills unexplainable feeling about himself.

Tom was playing the guitar. He could hear the strumming of the strings. The sound became louder when he opened the door on a slight crack. For hours, Bill could listen his brother play. All the songs were for each other. There was no need for the twin brothers to explain. They felt each other's pain. A single look contains more feelings than words could ever express.

Rain fell on the big window that was giving out to a huge terrace of his own. L.A. was beautiful, but it was merely a place to escape from reality. Leaning against the cold glass made him realize what kind of secluded life they had. Shut off from humanity or any kind of normal life.

Bill had always been different. He never wanted to be anything else either. Standing out and showing the world who he was, that's what he craved. He got called names, many times. Names that hurt... used to hurt. Not anymore. Knowing who he was and the acceptance of his twin brother was all he longed for. "Never let others change who you are", his words echoed through his head.