Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Author's Note: This will be a multichapter drabble-ish story that is told through letters written be Kyo. At the end, you'll see the outcome of all these letters. I don't want to give away too much, but if you're slightly confused, say so in a review.
Warning: You'll most likely be sick of the word 'Word' when you're done with this.
A Side Note: Kyo's been gone for a long time. He's changed, for the better or worst. Also, not including the Author's Note, this story is exactly 666 words long. The date is counting the time they've been together and it is frequent to change.
January 1, 2011
They are powerful things.
They can destroy and wreak havoc, they can pant destruction's fetid breath. But they can also sigh life.
I want you to understand something. Every inch of me is here. Each inch of pride, arrogance, pompousness, anger, and greed; every inch that makes up my entire being, is here in the darkness. Every inch of me, but one.
They are all I can give to you now. I had so many things I could give, that I wanted to share and show you. But no, not anymore. This is all I can give you. Words, and nothing more.
Do you find me laughable? Will you throw this away after you sneer at its contents? Will you burn it? What will you do? There are so many things you could do to it, so, so many.
Words can be hateful. They can torture and berate and attack and molest you, if you let them. Don't let them. Don't let them take away something that you are. Protect your words. Fight for them. Breath for them.
Because one day they will be the only thing you have left.
I find it funny. Words. It is so easy to abuse them, to contort and twist them until their original shapes are no longer recognizable. Many people do it. I was one. I used to curse them, hate them. I despised them because I could never say what I wanted. Words. I loathed what they brought out in me. Anger. Ferocity. Hatred. Longing.
But here I am. So long, that I've been here- a decade? Half?- and I could not be more the opposite. Words. They are all I have left.
These words. I wonder, here, if you can ever forgive me. I doubt it. You must think I don't care. You all must. All this unprecedented time, you have heard nothing of me.
I asked. I was scared to. I'm not ashamed of my fear. Not anymore. I was so afraid to ask. But I did. I did because I don't want you to forget. So I asked.
Can you believe it?
Can you believe it?
Yes. So simple. A short, small insignificant word. So powerful. I implore you again, so powerful. A pen and paper is now in my possession. It won't go to waste.
I've told you that I hated words. You must think I'm terrible, sending what I hated to you. I hope that you don't think that. Part of me doubts.
They are powerful, and compulsive. This is an example. When I began writing, I only wanted to tell you a small thing. Just one. You now own several paragraphs of my only belongings.
I want you to believe me. I do. Words are powerful things. You know this. I've written so many times than you'd care for. Three times, so you don't forget. I will say it again. They are powerful.
They are powerful because they are all we've got left. Past the accessories, the lifestyles, the items, the money. There are only words, and their influence over us. It applies to me. It applies to you.
Words. They are all I've got left. Everything is gone. Except for one. One inch.
I will not get paper again, I am told. Not for a long time. I will hide this. I want you to find it. I want you to find it.
I can see the bottom nearing. I am afraid; I'm afraid that he will come back and see what I have written, and throw it away.
I will write this quickly, and I hope, hope that you believe this. Because if you believe it like I do, you have already won. You'll have defeated the enemy. Never listen to what they say.
Within this paper is more than wood fibers.
There are words.
There are feelings.
There are 2.54 centimeters, 25.4 millimeters, and 25,400 micrometers.
There is me.