Post by Leckseeuh on Jul 23, 2010 11:22:58 GMT -5
The only real thing I carry around with me is this little notebook, a pen and my sword. I don't require food, I don't need sleep, although it'd feel once in a while.
I just sit here, where Atticus had left me as he went some-God knows where place. Even though he's like me, he seems to take care of me like a child. I haven't felt like that in years. A little Heartless I've made friends with has finally fallen asleep next to me, a sweet little creature. All I've heard about of our kind is that we're dangerous people and the light will overcome us. I'm not thinking that far.
After a few years of wandering the worlds aimlessly, I've been thinking - what's the real point of this life? I know that I'll probably never find my sister again. I don't want to rule the world. I don't want to be a peasant, I don't believe in love, I don't have feelings or a heart or soul, and I don't ache for them.
But how come these years seem to pass so quickly, and I really miss some things? Just looking at this notebook makes my eyes hurt. I occassionally read the little note in the back left by mother before she passed away.
What confuses me is - I've only existed for about five years, but I can still remember back, years ago when Lexia was a little child and cheering me on, telling me to hurry up, when she was playing with her friend that often dreamed of being a pirate. I have a feeling he's robbing pet shops.
Anyways, there's not much left to write. My pen seems to never run out of ink. Now that I think about it, I need to clean my sword...I also need to name it after years of fighting with it...Kuromae sounds like a nice name...
I just sit here, where Atticus had left me as he went some-God knows where place. Even though he's like me, he seems to take care of me like a child. I haven't felt like that in years. A little Heartless I've made friends with has finally fallen asleep next to me, a sweet little creature. All I've heard about of our kind is that we're dangerous people and the light will overcome us. I'm not thinking that far.
After a few years of wandering the worlds aimlessly, I've been thinking - what's the real point of this life? I know that I'll probably never find my sister again. I don't want to rule the world. I don't want to be a peasant, I don't believe in love, I don't have feelings or a heart or soul, and I don't ache for them.
But how come these years seem to pass so quickly, and I really miss some things? Just looking at this notebook makes my eyes hurt. I occassionally read the little note in the back left by mother before she passed away.
What confuses me is - I've only existed for about five years, but I can still remember back, years ago when Lexia was a little child and cheering me on, telling me to hurry up, when she was playing with her friend that often dreamed of being a pirate. I have a feeling he's robbing pet shops.
Anyways, there's not much left to write. My pen seems to never run out of ink. Now that I think about it, I need to clean my sword...I also need to name it after years of fighting with it...Kuromae sounds like a nice name...