Well… I'm new at this, so I'm not really sure what to write here. Thanks for bothering to click this, maybe? I do apologize for the shortness. It's more of a prologue, I guess. I'll try and make them longer. And I guess this is what you would consider an AU, but I'm not positive. Okay, I won't write any more, since I'm not sure if people read these.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
Ever notice how good books have great opening lines? Authors know they can't have a boring beginning or else the reader won't continue to read. So, they start out with a thrilling line, to start the moment. Another option would be to begin the novel with dialogue, most likely something witty. They could also write an emotional statement to capture a feeling and to further connect with the reader.
Well, those are great beginnings for writers (I'll have to remember those when I start writing my book), but how the hell does someone start writing a diary? Yes, I am going to call it that, as opposed to a journal. I don't care if it makes me sound gayer than I already am.
I suppose I could just start out with an introduction.
Hi, I'm Axel.
…
And I can just see the eye-rolling now. I doubt some random stranger is going to read this, so you all should know who I am. However, I can't rule out the possibility that my apartment won't ever be robbed, so to the burglar who should be running instead of reading this crap: The name's Axel. Got it memorized?
…
Okay, I had hoped that by making it seem catchier it would sound better, but now I'm sure I just sound like a geek or something. Trust me, though I've been absorbed into trying to fulfill my writing career, I am still a wild person.
Yes, a wild twenty-five year old who's writing in a diary in their spare time. Damn therapy technique.
Not to worry, Reader. I am, for the most part, sane. I have my unstable moments, but who doesn't? I'll admit, I was probably headed toward a mental breakdown a few years back, but I met someone who was able to steer me away from it.
But… that would be revealing too much of my "story" too soon, wouldn't it? Yeah, I've never seen any two-page best-sellers either.
Anyway, back to the point. I am not crazy. I'm just a guy with a love for writing who's trying to finish college. Many people could argue that authors in general are crazy (I'm still amazed by the all the fantasy, sci-fi shit people can come up with), and some of them would probably be right. But, really, who am I to judge?
I know what you're thinking. Yeah, you probably think that I must have no social life if I can give time to ramble about things you couldn't care less about.
Don't worry; I'm thinking the exact same thing. Well, technically, I'm realizing that I could be using this time to do something productive, like write three different essays so I can pass a class and, more importantly, graduate. I've stayed back a grade two different times in my life, I refuse to make it three.
Now, don't get me wrong. While I'm not the smartest guy alive, I do (for the most part) understand the work I have to do (most of the time). I'm just one of the biggest procrastinators you'll ever meet (read about). That would be the only downside to becoming a writer: deadlines. Or maybe that's what I get for moving away and not going to the college in my hometown. No friends to help motivate me. Not sure what they could do, since they are either A) Slackers, like myself, B) Too busy to help me, or C) Hate me too much to really be my friend any more.
I'm sure you all think option C is impossible, since I must come across as such a kind, loveable guy (again, I know you're rolling your eyes), but yes, some people actually hate me. Understandable, once you actually get to know me. I'm an asshole to most people, even though I don't really have a reason to be. I'd say it was because I was trying to perfect my loner persona, except that I was a pretty popular guy, and I don't really hate people.
So I'm sure you're all forming ideas about how my, let's say "rough around the edges," behavior is attributed to a messy breakup, or a tough home life, but…
Okay, I'm not really comfortable with writing about that. Guess I haven't warmed up to the diary quite as much as I thought I had.
I think I'm done writing in this right now, since it's after two in the morning, and I can feel the energy drinks wearing off. Yes, I am going to bed, even though I still have those other things to write and without having a concrete opening to this diary-thing.
Don't say anything! I know that you, whoever you are, would argue that these five pages would be my beginning, but it seems too dull to be one. No, this would be my preface, or, though it might be a stretch, my acknowledgements section. I have now just come up with an idea. While it's just in the working stages, I am hoping that this will enrapture you, and that you'll continue to read this… thing.
It took me five minutes to learn his name, five months to kiss him, and five years to call him, so I could re-enter his life. I'm not the only one who hates time, right?
May 2, 2009 (Yeah, I know, I didn't add one of these to the last entry. Deal with it).
Okay, so I'm having an insomnia moment. Guess I can add a little bit more to this. Sure, I could write an essay before I'll start to feel tired again, but I might as well write something that won't even matter once I'm done with it. And yes, I still am writing the preface. Again, deal with it.
Well, I'm sure that when you saw my way to start this diary, you all sighed, "Ah, melodrama." Well, the timeline may be a little off, but that is pretty much how it happened. I was nineteen when I met him. Sadly, I was still in high school, due to the fact I had to repeat my fourth year of elementary school and my freshman year of high school. While I may be awake, I don't feel like saying why yet. Though, if this thing is all done when you happen to read it, just skip ahead a few pages of curiosity gets the better of you, I guess.
Anyway, I met him my senior year. Sure, I'd known the kid since I had to be a freshman again, but I never really knew him, if you get what I mean. He was just one of those kids that I could probably pick out of a crowd of people (you'd get why, if you ever saw him). And I thought I had spiky hair… Well, maybe I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a crowd, since I didn't know his name (hence why I called him kid). I'm just really bad with names.
So, really, what else should I write about this? Sure, I could probably start the actual story, but I think I might get everything jumbled up, due to the fact that my eyes are drooping as I scribble all this down.
I'd say good night or something, but then I'd feel sort of awkward, since I would have to write it down and I wouldn't get reply in return.
Ah, screw it.
Later, diary-thing.
So… how did I do? This is my first story, so I probably messed up Axel's character, but maybe you could review and let me know? This new writer would truly appreciate it.
And I'm sorry if you don't really like the format of this. It'll switch every chapter between Roxas and Axel, so you won't just see the boring, diary writer.
Again, please review. I'll probably need the help, or the tiny self-confidence boost.
