Er, find this in my computer when I was cleaning out my files. Gosh, it's been a long long time since I've written anything. Heh heh…anywho, this was written in November, according to the...file properties.

I must've been in a very depressed state….

Oh, and I don't own Sailor Moon.


Have you ever woken up in your bed one morning by yourself, and for some reason, feel so hollow and empty inside?

You were fine the night before, but waking up on a new day, a new morning just makes you realize how alone you are…in your empty bed. In your empty apartment. Like you can hear the clock hanging on the wall ticking; teasing you, and you realize how you've wasted your whole life on bullshit that seemed so important to you. Your body is tangled in the warm sheets that protected you all night, but the warmth gives you nothing more than just heat. There is no solidarity. And you feel so alone.

It's funny how you can feel so empty inside, but at the same time, you feel your heart aching, your gut is tormented my so many things at once and you don't really know the reason for your pain. How can a person who's empty feel hurt? You wonder.

Today is a Sunday. That means you can stay in bed and think about it till noon. But the more time you spend in your warm bed alone, the colder you feel… the more pain you feel, as more unanswered questions arise. It's so noisy outside; you can hear the chatter of people on the street, voices of kids who don't have school, yet because of this, you feel so alone. It makes you sick…you can feel the warmth of your bed, the sunshine casting on you…yet inside, you still felt so cold and hollow…like your soul had died and all you have is this shell outside…but then why, you wonder, can I feel all these confusions and pain?

You wish you have no soul…because then you wouldn't have to feel anything inside. You have the few people who care about you; you receive a few friendly smiles sent by kind strangers, your best friend, and even some of your professors. But you feel like they are just outsiders, and they mean nothing. Deep inside, you know that you mean nothing much to them either. You are just a part of their routine. Another person they meet and have to deal with in life. And sure, there are those fan club girls who are willing to give you more than just smiles, but they don't love you like you need to be loved. They think they love you, they think they can give you everything you can ever ask for, but really, no one can, and no one ever will love you like that.

Because the only people who have ever truly loved you are dead. Is that what fate planned for you? That anyone who ever loved you will die? That anything, and everything you have ever loved, that made you happy, will suffer the same fate eventually, be destroyed, before your very own eyes?

If that's so, then maybe you must never love.

And you watch, as your life is shattered into a million small pieces, right in front of you. And there was nothing that you could do to stop it.

Just like you could do nothing as you watched your parents sitting in front of you, their bodies twisted into unimaginable, hideous forms. You watched as your father's head rested on the wheel of the car, gushing out were his blood; drips of blood staining the wheel; staining everything…mother's head was plopped awkwardly on the side of her right shoulder. 'It's weird,' you wondered at the age of seven, 'why are mother's eyes open? Don't people close their eyes when they sleep?' But you could offer no other explanation. She was quiet, she didn't move. Everything was so quiet; the sirens and sounds of people shouting were so far away.

But of course, you can't possibly remember all that can you? Of course not. That's just what you imagine everyday in your sleep—night after night, as you cry silently in your bed—of what must've happened; what it must have felt like.

They died for you. And you can't even remember what happened. And there is nothing you can do about it.

Just like you could do nothing at your parents' funeral. You were supposed to cry, to feel at least sad. But nothing came, because when you looked down at their faces—fixed with make-up to cover up their bruised, hideous faces—you felt nothing. They were just strangers. They meant nothing to the young you. What kind of a horrible son are you? You didn't even shed one tear at your parents' funeral.

Just like you can do nothing to end this sad, pathetic, and empty life of yours. You don't even have the courage to do that.

You feel so isolated and alone…you are dead, you walk through your life aimlessly, you feel like your heart is dead; it feels no hope, nor dreams; yet the part of you that can feel pain is still there; very much alive…as your heart beats a song that means nothing to you.

Your life is so empty, yet filled with so much misery. As you blame God, or whoever it is that made you this way; blame them for taking your soul but not taking you out of this empty, miserable life, blame them for leaving your battered, beaten shell here after devouring all the happiness you once felt, devouring the last glimpse of hope you had…you are trapped, like a ghost, walking aimlessly through life and every kind of bullshit it has to offer. You wish that even one small seed of hope would have been left...but no such luck. They took away everything.

Have you ever felt like that, waking up on a Sunday morning?

Perhaps not, but it's like that every day for me.

--

Look. The phone is ringing. Do you dare to answer it? Or will your voice give away that despite yourself, your cold and confident ways, you've been shedding tears secretly? Pitying yourself?

Just answer it. "Hello?"

"Hey buddy!" See? They're totally oblivious. "What are you doing? Look, a bunch of us are at the arcade, playing this game…hey, you should come down here, we're having a blast!"

In the background you hear voices, cheers, laughter. Those sounds jeering at the cold silence of your own home.

"You there? Anyways, come to the arcade! What do you have to do on this glorious Sunday anyway? All the girls are here: Mina, Lita, Raye, Amy…Serena. And Serena's friends…jeez, there sure are a lot of them. Come, will ya?"

Stop this self-pitying. Get out of bed. And go to her.

Do anything. Just don't love her.

Don't fall in love.

Do not fall in love with her. You mustn't.

Anything, and everything you have ever loved, that made you happy, will suffer the same fate eventually, be destroyed, before your very own eyes.

You must never love.


Okay…so the last part was just random. Oh well. It's my fanfic! So there!

Review!

The one, the only,

Gugugaga