Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters, merchandise, TV rights, ect… (I think you get the point.) Nor do I own the song 'I Must Not Chase The Boys' by Play
Summery
ONE SHOT – Just a little thing that floated through my head while I was listing to a song. Mimi centric. Like all of my work this is just something that happened to float through the empty void inside my head. Like it or hate it please R and R as honest opinions are always welcomed.
Muse: Again with Ming-Ming?
Lamb: Yeah I like her, you got a problem with that!?
Dedi: No he dosen't!
Muse: But I – Oh fine then. Anyway this fic is kinda special as it is the 40th thing we have written and posted. So congratulations to both myself and Dedi and I suppose to Lamb as well.
Lamb: So kind of you to think of me!
Dedi: This fic is dedicated to Iluvbeyblade cus it was inspired by reading her fic 'Masks' so Iluvbeyblade this is for you.
Lamb: As always sorry for any bad spelling and if you feel the need to through thing at me please wait until I've hidden behind the sofa kay!?
Muse: On with the fic!
This is the last song that I write till you tell me otherwise,
And it's because I just don't feel it,
This is the last song that I write till you tell me otherwise,
And it's because I just don't feel it anymore,
Soul Music
A slim girl with bright aqua-blue hair sat on a stool in the music studio. It's quite except for the music playing faintly in the background. It's around 12.30 which explains the absents of people, so for now the girl has the studio to herself. At first glance she looks about thirteen but if you look closer especially at her eyes, which are the deep red-brown or autumn leaves in the sun, you can tell she is far older then she appears at first sight.
Ming-Ming's POV
Singing. Singing was my therapy, even before I knew what the word therapy meant. As a young child, when it seemed like the world was out to get me and know one cared I'd hide under my bed and sing. It was almost like it didn't matter what happened as long as I could lose myself in my voice. I have a talent and it's both my blessing and my curse, I've been told that when I sing I can make people laugh or make them cry. But somewhere along the line I lost what singing gave me.
When you're young you often wish for things to be different from how they really are, I know I did. But when I did get what I wished for all I've wanted since is for things to go back to the way they used to be. My parents were so rapped up in each other that they were like strangers to me. They've never said it but I know that I was a mistake and the only reason that they didn't abort the pregnancy was they didn't find put in time. As for why they didn't put me up for adoption I can only speculate, but I don't think their social circle would have approved of such a thing so they kept me. Until around the age of six I was brought up by housekeepers and maids, my parents no more than a fleeting shadow in the back ground. I was occasionally taken out by my parents to act as a social accessory, while their friends would coo of me and say things like they had never seen such an attractive child but then with the parents she had it was hardly surprising.
It was on one of these occasions that I was overheard singing and my life changed forever. I had slipped off when some of the other children, yes there where others, started making fun of the colour of my hair. I went and hide in the garden I think and one of my parents friends heard me singing told them that I had talent and introduced them to an agent friend they had. From that day on I had my parents' full attention and I hated it and I still hate it. My image was carefully marketed, and it was all built around the fact that when people looked at me they went 'she's so sweet.' I was the child star. And I can't pretend that's all been bad cus it hasn't. For example some of the happiest times in my life have been when I'm on stage performing for an audience. But out of the public eye, well you can't even begin to imagine what my life has been like.
I was an early developer, and by the time I was fourteen I was already a C cup and well on my way to becoming a voluptuous young woman. But this flew in the face of my image as an amazingly talented child, so my parents took matters into their own hands and then placed them in the hands of a plastic surgeon. Now at soon to be eighteen I'm an A and still being forced to act the child. And the worst thing is that I can't just run away as I'm under contract till my twenty-first birthday.
I sighed and slipped down from the stool on which I had been sitting and walked out of the sound proof room and into the room adjoining it. I pulled a C.D. from my bag and inserted it in to one of the players before making my way back into the studio. Once more seated on my stool I waited for the track to start. I had pored, to use a cliché, my blood, sweat and tears into this song. The band had laid down the music during one lunch brake but even they didn't know what this song was. It was my baby and my secret. For it will never appear on any album that is released, it is to true, to honest and to full of me to be marketable. It's not a song that a child could sing. It's a million other things and me lashing out at the world and saying how I feel and what I want and what I need that I can't name. The intro started and I prepared to lose myself in words and melodies. This is me put to music, it soul music.
Won't someone tell me what is happening to me,
Why am I so misunderstood why can't they see,
Now I'm caught between the devil and the angel,
That I used to be,
They say I'll understand it all in good time,
But age ain't nothin' but a number in my mind,
I'm going crazy with this push me pull me,
Caught between wrong and right,
I can feel the goose bumps rush up and down my body as the song begins to take hold of me. This is what I want to do; this is the music I should be singing. Words that come from the heart and have the power to make people feel. How can someone relate to a song that I sing when I can't even find any meaning in it? I want to scream at the whole world because life is so stupid and unfair. And it dosen't want me to be who I am.
I wanna give in to the woman in me,
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be,
The moral of the story is I got no choice,
I must not chase the boys,
I started writing down my deepest secrets,
Seven days a week of truth and fantasy,
Got the feeling that the way my life,
Has got to be prepared for changes,
I can feel my eyes start to prickle and sting and yet I still pour more emotion into the words I'm singing. I can't seem to help it; I don't want to help it. I know that if I can't get some of my feelings out I'll burst and tare myself apart. I can't keep it all bottled up in side any longer, it's driving me mad, it's driving me so mad that nothing seems to make sense to me anymore. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the electricity jolt up and down my spine.
Won't someone tell me what is happening to me,
Why am I so misunderstood why can't they see,
No I'm caught between the devil and the angel,
That I used to be,
I wanna give in to the woman in me,
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be,
The moral of the story is I got no choice,
I must not chase...
Emotion is starting to make my voice crack, I'm somewhere between singing, screaming and sobbing. I can almost feel my heart cracking in my chest and I know it's silly cus it's only a song, but it's not just a song it's me and no one wants to see it. Lights are flashing in front of my eyes; I'm not breathing enough but still I push my voice for more, I've stated this song and for some reason I know I have to finish it. I throw back my head and put as much power in to the words as I can. I can almost feel every cell in my being vibrating with the complex emotions that are surging through me.
I wanna go left but they tell me go right,
Don't wanna be the little girl they kissin' goodnight,
The moral of the story is I got no choice,
I must not chase the boys,
They could try to make me write a thousand lines,
But that won't ever change the way I feel inside,
They've got their opinions but I just don't care,
Cus that's not what I wanna hear,
No I don't want to be the little girl anymore I want to be the young woman that I know I should be. I want the boy I care for to see my as something other than an annoying adolescent that sometimes hangs around with his friends. I want everyone to stop telling what I should be and just let me be who I am.
I, I must, I must not chase the boys,
I, I must, I must not chase the boys,
I must, I must, I must not chase the boys,
I wanna give in to the woman in me,
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be,
The moral of the story is I got no choice,
I must not chase...
The tears are flowing from my eyes as the song begins to slow as it comes to an end. I don't want it to end, it's strange but it feels like that when the song ends that all my hope will end with it. I'm going to be forever trapped by this perception of me. For the rest of my life I will be imprisoned by how people see me.
I wanna go left but they tell me go right,
Don't wanna be the little girl they kissin goodnight,
The moral of the story is I got no choice,
I must... not chase...the boys,
As the music fads away I can feet all my energy fading with it. I've put everything I have into this song and I don't think I have anything else left to give. I'll continue to sing the songs that are written for me and I'll sing them to the best of my abilities but this song will be the last song that I write until I'm aloud to write under my own terms. I raise a hand and wipe the tears from my cheeks, my head is spinning and I can feel the start of a migraine pounding behind my right temple. My emotions are rocketing around inside my mind and all I can do is sit and stare at the two-way mirror in front of me.
A girl is staring back at me. She's slim without a single curve to her, her shining aqua-blue hair is tied in two bunches that frame her smooth face. She looks sweet and no older than thirteen, but if you look at her eyes. I can feel my lip start to tremble. I can't believe my eyes can look like that and still no one can see who I really am. How can no one see the pain and sorrow in those eyes? Or maybe I'm the only one who can see it cus I'm the only one who knows it's there.
Suddenly there are voices on the other side of the wall and my manager is bursting through the studio door. He walks across the room towards me and I can practically see the dollar signs in his close set piggy eyes as he looks down at me. "Ready to work my little star?"
Without even having to think I hitch a bright smile onto my face in reply. I know that to him my words are meaningless unless they can be put to music and sold off for a profit. Over his shoulder I can see the smiling girl in the mirror and I can feel another small part of my die as my perfect mask slipped back into place.
Lamb: There we are all done, please let me know what you thought. I know Mimi isn't the most popular character but I really like her.
Muse: Yeah but you have really strange taste.
Lamb: Which is why I put up with you. Also I don't know if legally her parents could have forced her to have a breast reduction but it worked for the fic.
Dedi: Shut up you two and Iluvbeyblade I hope you liked it.
Please R and R we'd love to know what you thought.
Big luv see ya
Lamb and the voices