Disclaimer: I do not own Card Captor Sakura.

She was marvelously rich, rich beyond any human mortals thoughts. She had friends, she had wealth, she had a loving mother, the sun, the sky, the moon. She had darkness surrounding her body and warmth in the public eye. She had that beautiful face, painted up like a china-doll. She had everything, everything, nothing at all.

You could not blame her, not at all. The way she mourned for her lost heart, her beliefs, it sent cold shivers down Death’s spine. For that china-doll had nothing, and even Death could not take her away. It was too afraid to take from something that so lacked life on the inside.

On the outside, she overflowed in it. Life would seemingly pore out of her every spore, like blood from the dying man. She oozed in everything that was cute, loving, and kind. She was a picture of perfection on the outside. She was from the inside looking out.

Her heart was thin and melting, an ice flow that had lost its elegant crystal gleam. Her words were always softly spoken and well chosen. Her love did not love her, but she melted away all the while. Showing her love the bits of her that wanted, needed, that soft caress just to fill that vast empty void. She needed that lover to look within her and fill her empty shell of a body with feeling, emotion, everything.

She did not have her lover, her love was someone else’s lover. She did not have a lover, but she had money. Money gave her toys, and clothes, and countless friends. She had mansions, cars, diamonds, thick lustrous mink coats against her soft pale skin. Countless scruples could be changed or altered with her money. Money, money, money, all tugging at her fingertips. She had the power, with the help of her money, to destroy her lover’s one-true love and have her for herself. She could, how easily she could. And then she would have everything.

She did have everything, everything, everything…

In reality… she had nothing at all.

Though she tried so desperately, she clawed her way through that empty shell to grapple onto life as if it were a venomous serpent looming beneath her skin. She bit and scratched and smiled bloodily beautiful. Her eyes would not betray her for they were covered with the golden film of her despair. Lest she lose her mask, there were always ways to make another. The very life around her would build her a mask so thick and hard to penetrate that the gods would fear her. Her emptiness would engulf her body.

She tried hard though, she tried loving and holding onto everything to steady her dismantled corpse.

So you could not blame her a single bit for grasping onto everything.

Behind that lacquered smile, those dark soulful eyes and billion-dollar face, she didn’t have anything. When she could find things, she grasped onto them like an eel, she would not, could not, retract her grip on her desire for she knew not how. She wanted to experience every emotion as if it was a rainbow of ice-cream flavors.

She wanted to feel.

Was that such a sin?

She was not an amethyst-eyed girl, was not that sad broken bird who sang for her love again and again. Her portrayal was broken like the mirrors in her room; as many shards flung out across bathroom tiles as there were tears in a cloud. She didn’t want to be just that amethyst-eyed girl for amethysts were cold, hard, rocks. She was not and would never accept being just a cold rock. She was not a polished gem. She was, she was, she wasn’t.

Her skin was not porcelain, she wasn’t a doll.

Her hair was not black silk, she was not cloth.

Her nails were not claws, she wasn’t a beast.

Her eyes, her beautiful sad eyes, were neither jewels, nor mirrors, nor a sole lonely color swimming among tears.

She was not anything anyone else showed her as.

She wasn’t, she was not.

She was not just a useless doll thrown away.

But all the same, she sat in her room collecting dust. She watched blank screens, arranged plastic flowers, sat idly by like the wisp of souls in fairy-tales. She was not just a pretty face, she was just a face. Among every other face; how could she be different?

She was different, she had no essence, no soul, no tears.

All she had was nothing, her songs were for nothing, her love was for nothing, and her life…

All nothing…

So would you deny this empty body one kiss? One breath? One tear?

Finite

Author Note: This short story is not meant to be a happy one. It’s short and to the point. As good as I want it to be and I wrote this for all of you to experience for two reasons.

One: I want you to look at your writing, how you portray Tomoyo and think about it really hard. I mean it, I want you to look at it, criticize it and then change it.

Two: I want you to diversify. Seemingly all CCS fanfictions, even those with just a small bit of her character in it, have her as the exact same portrayal. She is now so single minded and cliché that the reader doesn’t need to read a story but they know the exact way Tomoyo is portrayed every single time.

Stop writing the same feeling from her; don’t make her that sad depressing girl, don’t make her that bubbling cauldron of life. Make her anew, mold her like clay. Don’t just take up the silly-putty, smack it down on a table and say "there, she’s done". I want you, the writer, to express her being.

In my story I refer to her many times as the "amethyst-eyed girl", this is very common. I’d like the readers and writers out there to change this, once again, diversify. Be different.

All flames and such will be laughed at. I pity people who enjoy flaming, it makes them seem like a dimwitted fool who hates everything with out giving it a chance. Offer good, polite, criticism.

I don’t want you to just write in your reviews to this story or others something along this line: "woooow, kawaii! Tomoyo-chan r0x0rs m4h b0x0rs, wr!tes moh’re k?".

Authors want to see what you think in-depth, don’t just gush over it, tell them what specifically about it makes you appreciate their writing. Use decent grammar and spelling, capitalize where needed

Please review and tell me what you think. Thank you for your time. I’m sorry if I got off on a ramble in my note. I promise not to do it again.