Pokemon does not belong to me.
I am an average pokemon. I have no weird hue in my coat, no special talents and no exceptional intelligence. I have no great parentage or background to boast of, no tragic-ridden history to anguish over and no marvelous prophecies of my destiny foretold by some charlatan. To sum it up, I am part of the mob.
I have average relationships with my teammates. They try to cheer me up when I am feeling moody for the first few hours before getting bored. They try to be generous and give me food which they do not like. They try to protect me from bullies before running away when the going gets tough. All in all, they are those typical run-of-the-mill friends.
I belong to an average trainer. He is a typical human boy with typical aspirations of climbing to the top of the world. He dreams of becoming the next legendary hero. He hopes to have hundreds of loyal pokemon who would love him with all their hearts. He praises us when we win, scolds us when we lose. He rewards us when we did fantastically well and punishes us when we disobey. Plainly speaking, he is one of those boys that could be practically found everywhere.
I hope I have gotten my point over to you now.
This average but marvelous world of mine was shattered days ago by my trainer. He suddenly gotten it in his head that he would not be those average boys. He suddenly decided that he wants to do something that would allow him to realize his dreams. He suddenly set off to capture a legendary pokemon…
A legendary pokemon is nothing to be trifled with. They are said to be make up of the very elements itself with power immense enough to destroy the world. And as I have emphasized on so many times, we are nothing but average.
And legendaries are nothing but legendary.
It has been two days since then. He had spent the first five hours searching for information about the legendaries' abode, next three hours deciding on one and the last few hours buying essential items and setting off.
During all those time, I was already mentally judging our chances of victory. Would we win? Would we lose?
No. The question should be, would we survive?
I have no infantile illusions of us winning the battle gloriously with the legendary. It is a cold certainty that we would lose. After all, we are not in some childishly optimistic fairytale. And although I am average, I am not obtuse.
We were, are not and would not be the ideal material for heroism and braery.
That night, my trainer gave us a pep talk. He spoke of battles that we would win, fame that we would receive and adulation that we would get. How caught up he was. How foolish. How wise.
Surprisingly, my trainer has a talent for speeches that would inspire and motivate others.
The other teammates were all too trapped in his lies. No, not lies but rather, illusions. Those were what they dreamt of during their youths and now, our trainer was seemingly offering them the chance of getting it. Like a spider trapping its flies. They were that helpless and dumb.
I managed to evade that trap though. Moreover, I tried to help my trainer and teammates to evade it as well. I have an average liking and respect for them.
Besides, my life is in my trainer's hands.
However, they refused to listen. Even right now, just two days away from our destination and death, they refused to listen. Exasperation and desperation was not the least of what I felt.
I am entertaining the idea of escape now.
How about leaving all these idiots here now?
Let's just run away from all this stupidity!
They are not worth my trouble! Let them die!
Run!
Leave!
Escape!
I gave in. I ran like the wind and managed to evade the clutches of those cretins, those were what I have wanted to say.
However, as I have said earlier on, we are not in some childishly optimistic fairytale whereby everything goes perfectly and according to plan.
I did not run like the wind.
I did not evade their clutches.
I was caught.
My trainer is berating me. No, he is scolding me. No, he is screaming his head off at me.
He is irked. He is angered. He is off his rockers.
One of his precious and always loyal pokemon had just tried to abandon him. I suppose he does have the right to be feeling that. Nevertheless, I think I have the rights to try and protect my life but he is a tyrant, so I don't think he would understand.
He is the trainer. He is the law.
At least, to us, he is the law.
Ack!
…
…
…
Dang. He has put me into the pokeball and I doubt it would be anytime soon before he lets me out.
No, he would probably let me out two days later… When we are battling the legendary.
…
…
…
This is boring. I wonder if he would let me out for a meal. If he didn't, this is going to be sooooooo boring.
I wonder if it is possible for me to get driven to insanity in here.
…
No, it is unlikely. A day or two won't have that much of an effect.
…
Perhaps I should commit suicide in here. It seems to be a much more welcoming choice than to be charred or cut into pieces by the legendary. Besides, it would be a strong and definite way of showing my defiance. Truly speaking, I want to spite my trainer.
…
My trainer has no real grasp of reality. My teammates are dumb.
They are average yet they think they are not.
Sad thing really. Because much as I think they are dumb and idiotic, I did spend a good portion of my life with them.
I respected them and liked them, albeit, in an average way.
Now that I think of it, since I know nothing of unique and special, everything would be average to me. What is the definition of average?
Is it ordinary, typical or usual?
But my trainer is not that typical anyway, he likes pokemon food.
And the fact that I am punished by my trainer right now while the others are not, showed that I am not average right?
…
…
…
Dang. Why am I thinking these weird thoughts now? I am average and that's it. End of story.
I was nothing special, am nothing special and would be nothing special. It is impossible for me to be special.
I am average.
...
Ugh!
A flash of light! My trainer has finally let me out! Joy!
I felt my happiness dissipates as I took hold of the situation. The legendary was staring at me, or rather, glaring at me.
Shit. My legs are quavering. I am scared. I am screwed. I am dead. Help. Run. Afraid. Please. Escape. I don't want to fight. Frightened. Go away. Please. Death.
I fainted before the legendary even laid a single feather on me.
The images that I have seen were vague as I drifted in and out of unconsciousness.
Screams.
Shrieks.
Shouts.
Burns.
Water.
Fur.
…
…
…
Silence…
My mind somehow registered that.
The danger was over and I was allowed to wake up.
What I saw filled me with horror, terror and trepidation. Strangely enough, it filled me with eagerness and excitement.
The matriarch once said that there were four ways to escape pain. One is to sleep and I have already done that. Second is to forget but what I have seen has been too deeply engraved into my mind. Third is to escape through the door of madness. And fourth is to die and I did not want to die yet. My survival instincts held strong.
Therefore, I took the only way which seems available to me. I went mad.
But I suppose this is somewhat good. Like all others, I have a want buried deep in me to be separate from others. I do not want too be average.
I am no longer average.
I am mad.
I am special.
I am happy.