By: Thought

Disclaimer: The purple doorknobs hate me, So do the Toyota pixies, I don't own X-Men, And there's nothing that rhymes with pixies. Wow

Summary: Ororo Munroe writes about her feelings in a letter to no one in particular. Slight Kuroro.

A/N: Um, I know it's pathetic. I just had to do something! I'm going into review withdrawl, so I had to write something to get people to write reviews. Oh, and flames will be used to blow up my toaster!!!!

A/N2: If this is missing some formatting or bolded stuff or anything, it's not my fault! I've been fighting with quick edit for the last twenty minutes, and let's just say, it's not exactly JAWS compatable. (JAWS is my screen reader)

I'm not going to start this with 'dear diary', because people only write that in fairytales. My life is no fairytale, that's for sure. Of course, it's not as bad as some people's, but it's not exactly happily ever after, either. It's... somewhere between very strange, and normal. My name is Ororo Munroe, and I am a Mutant. And if someone can't deal with that fact, then they can go to Hell...if I'm not being to subtle? Good. Ok, now you're probably wondering what my amazing super-power is. I control the weather. Rain, lightning, winds, snow...they're all at my beck-and-call, any time of the day or night, whenever I want them to do my bidding.

Now, tell me something. Have you ever met a Mutant? If you said no, then you're most likely mistaken. We're everywhere. We shop at the same stores as you do, eat the same food you do, drive the same cars you do. There is no sign on our foreheads labeling us as different, and I'd be willing to place money on the fact that you have seen a Mutant, and just not known it. I had a friend, Jean Gray, who looked exactly like anyone else. And I teach a boy named Bobby Drake, who was able to hide the fact that he is a Mutant from his own parents. So, yes, we're pretty normal. Of course, I have to take in to account the fact that Jean is now dead, and Bobby's parents hated him when they found out he was a Mutant but, uh, let's just ignore those facts, shall we? Then there's people like Kurt Wagner and Henry 'Hank' McCoy, who have such drastic physical differences, that the only way they can function in society is with the help of an image inducer.

Kurt Wagner. Now there's an interesting piece of work. A man so devoted to his chosen religion, that he carves symbols into his own skin to atone for his sins. If that isn't faith, I don't know what is. I can't share the faith he has in his God, but I can admire it. There's not that many people out there who can claim to be that devoted, or that faithful to one deity.

"He seems the most innocent being I have ever met throughout my entire life. He is quiet, sweet and the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever had the fortune of meeting. He was the only one to pay attention to me after Jean's death, and instead of trying to make me talk about my grief, he simply was there for me when I needed companionship and friendship. The nights I couldn't sleep due to the nightmares, which plagued my rest, he would sit up with me, eating ice cream, watching movies or just stargazing. I don't know any of his past, but it doesn't bother me. Usually, I like to know anyone very, very well before I put my trust in them, but with Kurt it is somehow different. I have known him for less than a month, yet I have a feeling that I would trust him with my life, if it ever came down to that.

Scott is taking Jean's death worse than I could have ever imagined. He has not taught a class since she died, and he haunts the mansion like a specter, only eating when the Professor, Rogue or I make him. He has developed some sort of brother-sister bond with Marie, which took us all by surprise. Lately, she is the only one he will even talk to.

I don't know what to think of Logan. Ever since his breakdown on the ride home after Jean's sacrifice, he's been even more gruff and harsh than usual. He has taken on a PE class, and I have heard many of the students threatening to drop out if he doesn't let up a little on them. I will have to talk to him, eventually, but I am still going through my own grieving process, even though there are only three people in the entire mansion who are aware of it.

There's Kurt, of course, with his gentle words and quiet friendship. The Professor, who can feel all of us grieving, is quite aware that I am not as calm and collected as I appear to be. We have spent many an evening sitting by the fire, talking about Jean, remembering all the happy times we had with her. The third person, surprisingly enough, is Jubilation Lee. Jubilee has gone through many losses in her short life, and I suppose she is able to see a kindred spirit, or something like that, from miles off. The day after the incident, she came up to me as I was trying to prepare dinner for the students, and silently began helping me. She hasn't said anything about it, but I know she knows that I'm not over Jean's death, and she understands.

February is a very cold month. There has been a steady rainfall for the last three weeks, and the skies are constantly gray. The trees are still bare, and no one has gotten the energy to do anything more than the most of necessary repairs to the mansion. Jean's death hangs like a large black cloud over the school, and I don't think it's going to lift for quite a while yet. I'm not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel yet. But who knows. It's February, the month of love, and maybe, just maybe, I will find my light in a certain blue-skinned Mutant. But for now, there are many more things I need to do before I can attempt to sleep, and I should really get to them.

Ororo Munroe