I closed my eyes for the last time.
They say when you die, you will, see life flash before your eyes.
And I saw, I saw my whole life…
They say the firstborn child of a king is born into light.
But I was born into silence.
No storms, no stars, no prophecies. Just a quiet night and a colder morning. The palace bells rang once, then fell still. There were no feasts, no songs. Just duty.
The Queen held me for a moment, then handed me away. The King looked at me like he already had a crown waiting — heavy, sharp, and distant.
No one smiled.
But years later, when my brother was born…
The sky lit with fireworks.
Minstrels sang until sunrise.
And for the first time in memory, I heard my mother laugh.
They loved him from the moment he arrived.
And I… I was just the boy standing at the edge of the room, watching.
[6]
"Why don't they love me?" I once asked my tutor, when I was very small.
She paused too long before answering.
"Your Highness, you must understand… love is not something we always earn. Sometimes, it's simply given. Or not."
I didn't ask again.
My mother and father never really cared, really, they never filled in the basic requirements as a parent. They never showed me any love. That was how little they loved me. I had to learn and do everything myself. To them, I was nothing but a burden. I was nothing but a show. An object they could show off to everyone. Outside, we were the "Perfect Family"but on the inside, we were just a broken family. Deep down, I guess I already knew that, but I would still try to be that perfect kid, just so that I could earn their love, their care.
The younger me was naive and did not understand the harsh reality of my world. Me being that annoying perfect kid only led to my mother and father's resentment.
[7]
I was always hoping that one night, maybe one night when I gave them tea, they might kiss me goodnight or put me to sleep. But that never happened. The younger me was about 2 years old at that time. I foolishly clung to that hopelessly hope that maybe one day, that miracle might happen.
At 2 years old, I had to tolerate my father taking out his frustrations on me, while my mother would watch at the side cursing that how much better it would be if I was never born. At night, I would have to comfort myself that there were no monsters under the crib and cry myself to sleep, wondering if my existence was even necessary in this world, which I now realise it never was. There was no one I could rely on, no one was there to support me. I realised how little this world needed me.
At a young age, I already had the thought of committing suicide. But I always delayed that thought, thinking about how sad mother and father would be if I died. But I knew, in my heart that they wouldn't be, they wouldn't even notice that I died.
[8]
Even if they did, they wouldn't more or less be like " Oh, he died? Good riddance!"
But to the outside world they would be like " It's so sad! He was our child! No one can ever replace him!(* fake tears streams down) We loved him so much!" I was so young then, yet I could not tolerate them. I surprisingly lived 13 years with them. I'm amazed too.
Some nights, I would lie awake in the royal observatory — not meant for children, but the guards stopped caring after a while. I'd press my cheek against the cold marble and stare up through the crystal dome.
The stars never looked away.
I gave them names no one else knew. I made up stories about them. Pretended they watched over me. Sometimes, I imagined one of them was a prince too — just like me — forgotten by his family, but chosen by the sky.
The stars were my only comfort, my only friends, my only source of love.
[9]
My brother didn't mean to steal their love.
He was warm where I was quiet.
Charming where I was still.
Sunlight to my shadows.
He used to ask me to play with him. He looked up to me, in the way younger brothers do. But eventually, he stopped asking.
Even he learned.
⸻
Every time I looked to the stars, I asked the same question:
"Is there something wrong with me?"
They never answered.
But they never turned away, either.