myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Birthday
• 1993-05-02
Gender
• Female
Location
• Here
Member Since
• 2005-05-30
Occupation
• Life preserver :)
Real Name
• Belina

Personal

Achievements
• http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb281/Soul_Resistance/Untitled.jpg... Nuff said
Anime Fan Since
• Ever since Pokemon
Favorite Anime
• I'm not that obsessed anymore, to be honest. Mostly just Kare Kano, Ceres, Furuba, Ouran Highschool Hostclub, FMA, and, of course, ShinChan. X3
Goals
• Make it out of here in one piece
Hobbies
• Paranoia, mood swings, and the occasional emotional meltdown
Talents
• :)

myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Errrrrrrrgh.......... SATTTTURRRRRRRRRDAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!
"2 more weeks, my foot is in the door."
''-__- Well, nothing worth mentioning really happened yesterday except that one of my poems I submitted to my schools Fall poetry festival thingie may or may not be published in the school paper on Monday. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Other than that, I've got another short story for y'all about/inspired by That Bitch. This one's a bit less of an autobiography though and doesn't really have an ending. But I figure I put way too much effort into it for it to be gathering dust in my word document forever, so here it is:

PROLOGUE

Hey.
See that guy over there? The oh-so-hideously adorable one with the scar on his nose, the lost patience in his confused hazel eyes, and the oh-so-inviting tuffs of light brown hair concealing the majority of his cream-colored fore-head?
No, of course you don't. If you did, I wouldn't have to ask. Because if you did, I would already be able to tell by the way you would now be gaping incredulously at him, over-flowing with disbelief, as you wondered what the suicidal sheep he's doing here, on the bus to Perry Hall High, when, according to pretty much everybody, he's supposed to be being slowly crushed to death between the thoroughly massacred realms of his sub-conscious and the blankets of a too-clean hospice bed in a too-clean hospice room, plugged into some sort of ultra complex life-support system, with the clip-board beside his bed identifying him as” DANIEL AARON PRETTY," located somewhere in the quarantine wings of St. Menus's Hospital. What you would do next really depends on the relationship you had with the aforementioned Daniel. If you were one who simply knew but did not talk to him, you would merely continue to stare at him and ejaculate some dumb-founded exclamation. If you were a bit closer to him than this, you would disbelievingly address him to make sure you weren’t just hallucinating, and then begin to excitedly interrogate him as to how he made out of his coma so easily and so suddenly. If you were even closer to him then this and had spent the entire weekend practically choking yourself to death on your own paranoia that he might never wake up, you would unhesitatingly give some exclamation of euphoria at seeing him awake and seemingly healthy and then half-tackle, half-hug him to the ground.

Or, if your relationship to Dan was anything like mine, you would simply stare at him perplexedly for a few minutes, contemplating his unexpected (and unwanted) prescience, then infer that, judging by the fact that no one except you seems to be able to hear or see him, he must be a ghost of some kind. And then, assuming you loved/hated/stalked/wanted to molest him as much as I did, you would of course watch with unlimited mirth and malicious bemusement as Dan practically re-kills himself trying to be heard through the oh-so-uncompromising line dividing the plane of the living and the plane of the dead. Trying to be heard through the oh-so-uncompromising line dividing the plane of the living and the plane of the dead, and then fail miserably because apparently, for some stupid reason, I'm the only one who can see/hear him. Ya dig?
No, of course you don’t.
You were probably too busy wondering how many hoops I had to jump through to avoid being sued due to all the similarities between the plot of this story and that of “The Invisible” to have even paid attention. (Which reminds me: BITE ME, COPY RIGHT INFRINGEMENT!!)

So, here, let me sum up what you missed: Daniel Aaron Pretty is in coma. A fraction of his soul (A.K.A. his ghost) is now haunting the school-bus. And due to it being utterly impossible for him to interact with anybody he deems worth interacting with, he is now on the verge of turning into a Poltergeist. Okay? Okay. And why does this concept make me so happy, you ask? Why does the thought of being attacked by a malevolent spirit make me squeal with glee? Because it’ll be DANNY’S malevolent spirit. It’ll be DANNY’S frustration and anguish. It’ll be DANNY who’s the desperate ghost. And, that, dear readers, is just another reminder that he’s dead. He’s finally dead. As in, nothing more than a gloomy manifestation of a failure to let go of a lost life. A lingering spirit. A symbol of an oh-so-misplaced admiration and an ancient grudge. A wretched reminder of what I could’ve had but was always too much of a coward to obtain. And for this, I hate him. Hence my pleasure in his torment. However, it is not solely vengeance that has made me so happy.

No, it’s actually mostly the fact that now he’s just as invisible and unalive as I am. And that, dear readers, makes us even.

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