Disclaimer: I don't own gundam wing.
Notes- Trowa pov. Introspective angst.
Written for the lj community gw500. challenge- the word 'digging'. Word count- 500 (do not believe the word count on ffnet -_-)
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I'm digging again. Immersing myself into someone else's life. Their birthday, their likes and dislikes, their family. I dig and dig through files to find what needs to be found. And all the while I'm someone else. I'm a mechanic, a computer programmer, a foot solder, a lackey. I've been everyone and yet, am no one. I don't even have a name that I can claim as my own.
I can fit in anywhere, anytime. I can be anyone and do anything. They say it's a talent, a gift. I think it's a curse. I have so little of myself that I can easily become someone else.
It's pathetic really. Sometimes I really hate myself for doing it. And sometimes I hate myself for whining about it. Life could be so much worse.
And yet, and yet I don't want to be someone else. I don't want to pretend, to give false smiles and information. I want to be me.
Ah but that's the problem. There is no 'me'. There never was. My earliest memories are of the mercenaries that raised me. They never saw fit to give me a name, or even a birthday, false or otherwise. That would be a frivolous waste of time. All I needed to know was how to kill. In every way possible.
Then as I moved on from them I never found a name for myself. I've seen people pick new names; reinvent themselves. Begin new lives or live false ones under their new persona. I never could do that. It seems so empty; to try and make a new you. I feel some contempt for those people. They should be happy that they are. They exist. Someone brought them into this world, gave them a name, a home, a life. But that isn't good enough for them.
I think Duo understands how I feel, at least a little. While he didn't borrow a name as I did, he invented it. He made himself who he wanted to be. Starting from the beginning, from scratch. He made himself to be what he wanted and who those around him needed. In a sense he did have a family. But then in a sense so did I. It all depends what you want to call a family or how you describe it.
Take Mr. Carson here. The man who's life I'm currently digging into. He was born on October 12th. His full name is William Jacob Carson. His father's name is Jacob, so I'm guessing that's where the middle name came from.
And here I am digging through another life. Layer by layer, digging away. My one true fear is that one day I'll dig too hard or forget to stop digging. I'm afraid that one day I'll dig so deep I'll fall in. Become buried inside and forget to come out again. One day I'll stop being me and become that computer programmer or mechanic or just another faceless nameless solider doing his duty.
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reviews would be greatly appreciated ^_~
Notes- Trowa pov. Introspective angst.
Written for the lj community gw500. challenge- the word 'digging'. Word count- 500 (do not believe the word count on ffnet -_-)
~*~*~*~*~*~
I'm digging again. Immersing myself into someone else's life. Their birthday, their likes and dislikes, their family. I dig and dig through files to find what needs to be found. And all the while I'm someone else. I'm a mechanic, a computer programmer, a foot solder, a lackey. I've been everyone and yet, am no one. I don't even have a name that I can claim as my own.
I can fit in anywhere, anytime. I can be anyone and do anything. They say it's a talent, a gift. I think it's a curse. I have so little of myself that I can easily become someone else.
It's pathetic really. Sometimes I really hate myself for doing it. And sometimes I hate myself for whining about it. Life could be so much worse.
And yet, and yet I don't want to be someone else. I don't want to pretend, to give false smiles and information. I want to be me.
Ah but that's the problem. There is no 'me'. There never was. My earliest memories are of the mercenaries that raised me. They never saw fit to give me a name, or even a birthday, false or otherwise. That would be a frivolous waste of time. All I needed to know was how to kill. In every way possible.
Then as I moved on from them I never found a name for myself. I've seen people pick new names; reinvent themselves. Begin new lives or live false ones under their new persona. I never could do that. It seems so empty; to try and make a new you. I feel some contempt for those people. They should be happy that they are. They exist. Someone brought them into this world, gave them a name, a home, a life. But that isn't good enough for them.
I think Duo understands how I feel, at least a little. While he didn't borrow a name as I did, he invented it. He made himself who he wanted to be. Starting from the beginning, from scratch. He made himself to be what he wanted and who those around him needed. In a sense he did have a family. But then in a sense so did I. It all depends what you want to call a family or how you describe it.
Take Mr. Carson here. The man who's life I'm currently digging into. He was born on October 12th. His full name is William Jacob Carson. His father's name is Jacob, so I'm guessing that's where the middle name came from.
And here I am digging through another life. Layer by layer, digging away. My one true fear is that one day I'll dig too hard or forget to stop digging. I'm afraid that one day I'll dig so deep I'll fall in. Become buried inside and forget to come out again. One day I'll stop being me and become that computer programmer or mechanic or just another faceless nameless solider doing his duty.
~*~*~*~*~*~
reviews would be greatly appreciated ^_~