I imagine that being unwanted is where no one cares about you or rather, see you as someone you're not. This pains me so much, where I balance in either form of unwanted. To me, I seek little attention and expect nothing. Yet, my half receives so much of being wanted.
That side of me sacrifices everything I could offer to the world. Beyond to my accomplishment, they only see the good and reasonable side of me. Everything their eyes and ears can reveal very little, yet, I stand in between the line where nothing is what it seems to be.
They claimed I am a hero to them…all because I ask nothing in return. It is not the way I see myself. I am not a hero. A hero is someone who does not care for anyone but themselves, praising to something they did good, and completely innocent. Innocent was far too long gone, for me that is. Every day, I see dying people I failed to protect or to keep alive. The vicious people would brutally beat anyone, including myself. I held fears of being taken advantage, abused, turned into a weapon, and much more. These fears climbed over the phobia limits to the point no one understands how I run my life in allowing myself to be petrified very dangerously. With their fears meant nothing compared to mine. This is where I struggled, fought, experienced, suffered, and repeatedly going through my trauma stages. The others can easily move on with their life, knowing it can never actually happen. They are the lucky ones to not having to deal with my cycle of multiple-phobias.
All I ever asked is help, respect, and stop calling me to something I am not, a hero. I sacrificed my body, soul, blood, ectoplasm, energy, sweat, and power. My sacrifices inflicted damage to the point of breaking down and end this mess. There is no one to take my place and willing to fight and protect. My education, sleeping, eating, peeing, and breathing are all stolen from me. The quality time with the ones I loved are being robbed from me and never having a normal relationship.
I lost two of my closest best friends to their falling death. My failure of rescuing them was snatched away because I did not make it in time. My sister is the only reason I am not insane or committing suicide. Sometimes, she helps me realize my friends would not want me to grieve and that they would want me to be the hero everyone sees. Yet, Jazz knew better that I am not a hero. To her, I am view as a silent protector or Fallen Angel of a Phantom.
Just for once…a long vacation would be nice, so I can escape my deep trance fears. Only my dear sister can continue to save me. She is a true hero.
I felt like going into Danny's perspective, seeing that a halfa has to go through and that he believes he isn't a hero, not the way people claim him to be.
I will leave your imagination be.