xxx
I: "You should know by now that people don't give a damn."
xxx

What the hell do I do now?...

I don't know. I honestly don't fucking know. Before I thought the answer would be to keep writing. Write another novel. Write a better novel. Write a novel that will far surpass the first one. Write one that would make everyone see that you're not just a one-hit wonder.

'Cause that's who you are right? The incredibly talented, infamously powerful, persuasive, charismatic story teller adored by thousands right off the bat. The visionary who is only beginning to bloom into an extraordinary author. Whose future is paved clear ahead.

You can't hear the sarcasm in my voice, but it's there. Believe me, it's there...

I feel like my life at this point, doesn't really matter. And it probably doesn't, so I won't go into it. It's exceedingly boring and believe you me, you really don't want to hear it. Everything before the fame was peachy keen. Normal, boring, an every day family tale of ups and downs but nothing ever seriously dramamtic. You don't want to hear that.

No, nobody wants to hear the good in someone's life. It's always the bad that they thrive for. That they live for. It's like a sick attempt to make themselves reflect on their own life and thank whatever the hell it is they believe in that at least they're not as bad off as that person. No, it's never something like:

Person One: So how's life been treating you?
Person Two: Oh, it's been grand. Bob's just been promoted and Li'l Billy's reading two levels above grade.
Person One: (Genuinely happy) Oh, wonderful, wonderful.
Person Two: Isn't it just? I couldn't be happier.
Person One: (Brutally honest) I couldn't be happier for you.

It's always and always:

Person One: So how's life been treating you?
Person Two: Oh, it's been grand. Bob's just been promoted and Li'l Billy's reading two levels above grade.
Person One: (Hatred and Envy beginning to bubble inside whilst thinking along the lines of "Miserable cow, that should be my family!") Oh, wonderful, wonderful.
Person Two: Isn't it just? I couldn't be happier.
Person One: (Wishing misery and doom on the other person) I couldn't be happier for you.

You sick bastards.

That's what all of you want isn't it? All you want is some kind of tragic drama for your own sick entertainment, isn't it? And not just any drama, you want the real hardcore non fiction stuff, no, you need that kind of real hardcore non fiction stuff to temper down you insatiable hunger for it. You don't care about the the family vacations or the pleasant well prepared meals we've shared together or even how I taught my brother how to ride a bike. No, what you want is what happened after all that. After the book was published, after all of the failing attempts at creating a new masterpiece and during that every misfortune that has fell upon my family. Well, you know what, fuck you. I don't have to share a damn thing with you people, and I sure as hell wouldn't do it for no damn good reason either. So to hell with you, all that, is my business. I don't need to share shit.

So that's it, from this point on, everything that's happened in my life, I'm just gonna pretend that none of it ever happened at all. Which might be a little more difficult than I think now, but I'll deal with that if it ever comes up.

...

I know I'm saying all this bullshit now, but I know by tomorrow, I'm not going to go through with any word I just said. I'm not gonna forget shit, I'm still gonna acknowledge everything. Everything from the book publishing to my father's cancer to my brother's expulsion to my failed attempts at doing anything to my mothers now failing heart, it's still all gonna be there, it's still all gonna matter.

And there's not a damn thing I can do about that. I know that every now and then I'm gonna slip up and say something that had to do with all of that drama and that's gonna lead to people asking what the hell and I'll answer them. I might lie, but I'll answer them.

So fuck it, whatever, I don't care. I shouldn't even have to deal with this kind of bullshit. I really shouldn't. This was not how I wanted things to come out. This was not how I wanted to come out. This was not how things were supposed to turn.

Thinking about this right now, with my eyes starting to close and knowing that in about three hours that damn alarm is going to go off and wake me up in a bad mood, this has got to be the lamest crap I have ever thought.

xxx

Disclaimer: Silver rabbits lead the dance...

-So this is... a repost of a fic that I had started a while ago, and even though I don't read or watch Naruto anymore, I still really like this story, and I still really love Itachi, so I want to finish it.

-I already have seven chapters done, but I'm only going to post weekly because I have this habit of not keeping to a schedule even though I want to, so to ensure that I'll be updating regularly, there's gonna be seven weeks of slow posting catch up.

-I was hesitant to delete this because of the reviews that I had received for it and truly doubt I will ever get again, but I really wanted to keep going and there are some things that keep me from updating on the old profile. So I took it from there and put it here, so I could have it again. That's actually made me a lot happier for some reason. ^-^

-Anyway, to the one person who did put me on author alert most likely to keep reading, you can go ahead and take me off that and just subscribe to the fic.