Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket or anything associated with it—all the credit goes to Natsuki Takaya.

Hello, World. I wrote this poem for you. Since you know me so well.

So Happy

Smile, be kind.

Because you're happy.

There is no pain here.

No cancer, no vomiting, no convulsions

No trembling, sick-and-weak on cold bare floor feeling

No twisting and burning and wishing to cry

No screams in the middle of the night

No imaginary friend to hold you

Who always turns on you and screams into your ear until you're

Dizzy dizzy dizzy

You hurt them you hurt them you terrible person

Hitting back to punish, kicking like I kicked them, slapping and spilling shared blood on the floor, the same blood, the same genes, the same aches and fears and god-awful curse that came in the night and devoured with teeth like a devil cat, like a devil

like a


You don't know what pain is.

You don't know what love is—biting your tongue to make it bleed so that you don't reach out and KILL KILL KILL the stupid, groveling fuckers that did this to you.











Why me? Why me? Why?!!!!!

Don't you smile at me.

Don't you beg forgiveness.

Don't you call me a terrible person or

Say that you love me or

Say that you understand


Cry and beg me not to hurt you...

Please forgive me.

I was born for pain.

Oops. Sorry that I hurt you.

Oops. Sorry that you hate.

Sorry that you'd do the same exact thing if you were ever given the chance you coward you coward you don't want pain.

You would sacrifice me.

So don't tell me to calm down.

Don't tell me to be nice.

Don't tell me to take my medicine


don't tell me to stay in bed


not go outside ever

or eat candy ever

or touch that plant

you're allergic

take a walk in the rain

you'll catch pneumonia

ride a bike



you're god

talk about it

you're god

oh, but you can bleed and vomit and suffer that's okay.

It's okay.

Of course I want to love you.

Of course I don't want to hit you.

Of course you don't deserve even a fraction of the pain that you pushed off onto a newborn infant, making every fucking choice for him so that he could never make one of his own not ever in his whole life, not allowed to be selfish, not allowed to be wrong,

you're god



and god is love.

I love you, it's fine.

Everything is good.

Can't you see that I'm smiling?

You'd smile too.

I know you would. Because you're a good person.

You'd do a better job than me.

Wouldn't you?

You'd smile all the time, with pain lancing through you, and your body eating itself, and a sunny day feeling like a blizzard and a gentle touch feeling like a knife wound and a knife wound feeling like a deep, deep kiss.

Oh, yeah. You'd smile. You'd be so happy.

So happy like this!

So happy like this!

Like wishing it would hurry up and happen so that you didn't have to decide whether you love or hate them for giving you the gift of power which was years-long, agonizing death and since everybody wants that for Christmas.

Oh SO much.

And I love you

and it's okay

and I want to die for you

I want you to take it all

I want to give away every chance

I want you to fucking kill me so that I can thank you for it.

Yeah, thank you.

Thank you for giving me this.

Thank you for taking

and taking

and taking

the very last breath from my sick, sick body.

I am very grateful.

I am very amused.

I am overwhelmed by the love you've shown me.

And I want to be nice to everyone because



From Akito, with love.

A/N: For those of you who couldn't tell, this is not an anti-Akito poem. It is a poem intended to take off the blinders of hatred and reveal the truth. Tricked ya! I feel no shame...