An ikarishipping story! With Dawn's perpetual tangent of failure and yearning for a dream that seems impossible, will running into Paul, who of which has an incremental pathway of success, help bolster the future state of her life?
Hope anyone who reads it, enjoys it. Don't forget to review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. All rights reserved to the owners. However, I do own the plot of this story and any OC's.
My heart dropped. I lost again.
Everything became slow, my vision became blurry, and I became a ticking time bomb.
Why, just why? Contest, after contest, I fail. No matter what regimens I train my Pokémon to, I always lose. My eternal allocation of failure has become my beacon of light that never ceases to make me feel useless, hopeless, and lamentable.
My Togekiss just fell; I just fell; my whole world just fell. Again. Just like always.
Running out of the ring, running out of the contest center, and running into the city, I tried to wash off these feelings. Feelings of shame, embarrassment, and indignity.
As I found a bench in an empty garden, I parked myself down and just sobbed. Sobbing out everything, just like I always do.
This aching pain in my chest, the pain I fell every time I lose a contest; it's like my heart is attempting to corrupt my body with it's throbbing, stinging every bone in my body. The pain quickly becomes intolerable, mentally and physically.
"When will I ever win?"
I'm a twenty-four year old, still chasing her dreams. Dreams. Sometimes I laugh at my stupidity on how I easily succumb to such a thing, but then I remember that this "dream" of mine is the only thing I have. The thing that comprises my identity, the thing that gives me meaning; the one thing I cling to that gives me hope for my future—Coordinating.
When does one stop chasing his or her dreams? Does one ever stop chasing his or her dreams? All my life I have zealously, obsessively yearned to become a master coordinator. To become known, to become someone. My dream has taken over my life, consuming my every minute, my every thought.
Despite my destructive desire to become this star, my aspiration for such things is devalued every time I lose. Losing. I can't even remember the last time I've actually won anything. Whether it was a contest, a friendship, or a boyfriend. Regardless of the pain I encounter every time I lose, I always sustain my desire to keep trying. If I keep trying, I will eventually get somewhere, right? I just wonder how long I can keep up my act before I completely become defeated, before I completely give up. But, pondering the multitude of releasing such a dream is asinine because if I do, then I am no one. Then I would of wasted twenty-four years for nothing, except experiencing what a constant flow of failure feels like. My life would be a non-existent void of guilt and dishonor.
It's really hard to believe in myself sometimes. My parents stopping believing in my "dream," quite a while ago; not helping me out mentally or financially, they just really don't care what I do with my life anymore. I am a disgrace to them. To them, I'm just a petty girl who's stupidly trying to achieve the impossible. In result, I haven't spoken to them in years.
Sometimes, I can't help but feel defeated.
Due to my obsession with becoming a coordinator, I have splurged everything I have into it. Every dollar, every minute, and my every ounce of energy.
I live in a crappy apartment that I no longer go to, because the government has their spies coating the place. The government. Shit, the government could possibly be the thing I fear most, more than failure. Because I have endowed my Pokémon with the best of supplies and myself with the best of dresses, all of which are contributed for the sport of coordinating, I have ultimately pasted being in the realm of debt, but rather in the realm of being shit ass poor and utterly bankrupt.
Everyone I know has surpassed me. Ash returned back to Kanto and became the champion; Brock has become a world renowned Pokémon doctor; Kenny has won three Grand Festivals, and is on almost every coordinating magazine; Zoey quit coordinating, but decided to set up her own chain of sensational restaurants; Barry is one of Sinnoh's elite four members; even Paul has managed to gain some success in his life. Actually saying "some success" is rather an understatement, he's Sinnoh's Champion, and has set up a number of lucrative businesses.
Just pondering the multitude of my friends' success makes me really depressed. Why didn't I end up with something to be proud of? Why didn't I get what I fucking wanted?
I wonder where I would be if I did what my parents told me to do. Due to my god given looks, they have always nagged me to become a model. With a perfect body, long blue hair, and exquisite facial features, I could effortlessly pass as one of the most gorgeous girls alive; but modeling isn't my passion, coordinating is.
I slouched in the bench and sighed.
All I want is my dream to come true. I want to show my parents that I'm not useless; I want to make them proud; but more importantly, I want to be proud of myself and I want to show it to the world.
After taking a three hour nap on the bench, it was dark, so I decided to leave.
As I strode down the streets of Hearthrome, I felt full of shame. I think something worse than having something to be fearful of, is having something to be ashamed of. Constantly harassing my brain, shame that never ceases to make me feel culpable.
Eventually, turning a corner, I panicked. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I failed to realize that I went on the street that my apartment is located. Shit!
The whole street is lined up with cops. Stupidly exposing myself, one of the cops spotted me. With adrenaline piercing my veins, I broke into a fast spirit.
Looking out of my peripherals, I saw numerous cop cars start up their engines. Crap!
There is no way I can humanly out run an effing car.
I quickly pulled out one of my Pokéballs from my purse and released Lopunny. In seconds, she was racing through streets, and eventually, she bolted through the doors of a building, one of the most esteemed buildings in the city. Holding the most lucrative businesses, only really powerful people work there.
Thanking her, I put her back into her Pokéball. Not wanting to be stopped by the cops, I went into the elevator of the building. Pressing the top button—button number 112—the elevator started to take me up.
Running my hands through my hair and leaning against the wall of the elevator, I unknowingly drifted off into sleep.
Why in hell do I stay here all night getting work done? I should be training. If I didn't get a shit load of money for being the CEO of this company, then I wouldn't even be here. I'm a greedy twenty-five year old, and I don't see anything wrong about it.
Once I decided that it was late enough to go back to my home, or rather my beach house, I walked out of my office and towards the elevator.
When the elevator doors opened, I went in, but I noticed something different.
Lying on the floor, is a deliciously attractive girl who appears to be…sleeping? What the fuck?
I fell like I've met her before. I mean, she has blue hair, granted her long hair is stunning, but having blue hair is not really common.
Upon closer examination, I realized who it was.