The Song of Souls

Author's note: This is a companion to my other POV, "The Secret" which is James, this is Jessie, and people seemed to be genuinely moved by "The Secret!" ^_^ Perhaps I'll do Meowth if this goes over well! Would ya'll like ta see dat? Anyway, please enjoy and review!

Insults have never bothered me, and they never will, they're all empty, spouted only from an emotion, and I've been called many things in my life, none of them touching me or hurting me. You can chose one if you like, bitch, whore, slut, old hag, hussy Typical run of the mill insults, none of them true, except one, which I actually consider a compliment! Misanthropic bitch. Now that just has a great ring don't you think? Especially when I remember it was coming from some guy who felt he was being so incredibly intelligent by using big words to insult me. Since when is it a crime to hate the populous of ignorant, messy, slobbering, panicky animals called humans? Now the bitch part I could live without, but the word no longer has any meaning for me, it rings dead to deaf ears, which hear only the song my lonely soul sings by itself.

I admit, there is one other person who understands, one who knows why I'm so short-tempered and angry with humanity, but he's much more gentle than I am, and he hides it better. His soul sings alone with mine, and they perform a beautiful and haunting duet lost in the ocean of cacophony the rest of the world spits to the universe. James is my soul mate, I know it, I've always known, from the second I laid eyes on him, and felt the same aura radiating from him that I recognized in myself and instantly fell head over heels in love, though it took me many more years to figure out the feelings toward him I had always felt were a brilliant passion.

For years I had thought there was something completely wrong with me, for I always felt the sting of so many different emotions at once I wouldn't know what to make of them, often convinced I had gone totally out of my mind. I pretty much avoided everyone else, kicking any guy in the groin who so much as even looked at me in a semi-lustful way, or whose eyes I would watch slowly drift to my full chest as I attempted to engage in intelligent conversation. I was cursed with beauty, and I used to dread the day someone would try and take advantage of me

The only person I ever felt safe with was my James, he's the sweetest, most gentle and kind person I know, and he's also the only person I've ever met, whose soul sings just like mine does. He knows it too, the gift, the knowledge embedded in our brains at birth, which we just can't decode into coherent thought. It exists only as a melody, and a harmony, each played by two members of one soul, and if both are in touch with it, then they know instantly.

Fairy tales always spoke of love at first sight, and I always thought them insane, thinking that no one could possibly see someone once and know that was whom they wished to share their life with, giving them half of everything, to get half of their soul mate back. I knew exactly what they meant later, because a soul's song is inaudible to most everyone, only those of us with the gift can hear it anymore, and it's always such a haunting and painful, yet beautiful harmony of the sounds of life.

They carry the wisdom of the winds to those who are different from one another, they can heal, or they can destroy, it all depends on the person. Lugia's song is a soul melody, created long ago by the wise and omnipotent beast to heal the world of the bane he knew was eminent for the earth.

The people who hear their songs are usually what most people call "loners," but they only shun humanity because of the stench of stupidity and uniformity that the entire world seems saturated with. People say they're striving to be an individual, but that's become an official trend Everyone wants to be different now, instead of the former belief that they just wanted to fit in, everyone thinks they're an individual, but no one is. It reminds me of a bumper sticker James and I had a good long laugh over. "Remember: You're unique, just like everybody else."

The people who think they're something special are disgusting, the go around bragging about it in an obnoxious fashion, hinting at what they believe they are to deaf and idiotic ears. People like the twerps, who run around getting their asses kicked, whining about it, then taking all the credit when some outside force throws the odds in their favor, while sacrificing everything themselves for people who call them villains, evil, heartless, wrong... We always conveniently show up to screw things up with a gym leader to get them to let him have a rematch, or to let him heroically save the day from the bad ol' evil wicked villains, and it always works. If we hadn't tried to steal the Cerulean Gym's Pokemon, if we hadn't sneaked him into the Celadon Gym as our Daughter', if we hadn't tried to capture the squirtle squad, the Pokemon Village's Pokemon, helped Cassandra's Paras evolve, proved to Charmander where its loyalties lay, broken into Koga's Gym, and so many more occasions, they would be nothing. Brock even owes us a debt of gratitude, for without us Suzie would have never given up her precious Vulpix which he so obviously adores. The twerps are nothing without us, and they can't even realize it, though I do notice Brock is usually reluctant to battle with us. I think he suspects what he's doing, but for fear of losing his friends and his love, he stays with them and adapts their thinking.

When we first saw Ash Misty and Brock, and that sadistic, power starved electric rat, we knew that they must be protected, both from the world, and from Pikachu believe it or not. Keeping Ash from losing is saving his life, and he doesn't have a damn clue, he's just about the densest person I can think of. The little red haired chick seems to have a thing for him, and I know poor Brock is head over heels for her, but I think Ash loves winning more than girls, and nothing will ever come of any of this, stuck in a deadly love triangle limbo for as long as they know each other. James and I often lamented Brock's hasty discussion to travel with Ash and Misty, for his soul sings, and we can hear it, but his gorgeous notes have been scattered to the wind, and though he retains some of it, it will never be the same again.

We cried over Brock one night, just sat in each other's arms and sobbed for a soul we knew was lost, terrified that our songs would fade as well, and we would lose touch with the gift. We try so hard to figure out the cryptic messages in the notes, but every time we finally think that maybe we know what they're trying to tell us about life, it slips away into another thought which bitterly and mockingly contradicts whatever it was before.

But perhaps that is the point of the songs and the gift, that life has no meaning, and humans gave it up long ago for aesthetic needs and material possessions, losing whatever gift the ancients gave them. Many religious accounts speak of humans becoming too greedy, and it seems to be a constant saccharine theme in stories and editorials about want, and people thinking things bring happiness. Humanity as a whole is too stupid to realize their own stupidity, and they've ruined it for people like my James and I, who want nothing more than to know why.

Not one single why, just everything, we yearn to know, and decipher our melodies of the soul, which hold the much glorified and cliched "Meaning of Life" but no one will ever attain the knowledge of again. Humans have lost it, while the Pokemon retained it, and they wonder why Pokemon do the things they do, thinking them so much lower than humans, who are in respect, animals themselves

Misanthropic bitch indeed