A/N : Hello there! I realize I may be late, but I really wanted to publish something for Naruto's birthday! Oh well, I'll just get on with it. -smiles sheepishly-
Warnings : Not Beta-ed. (There may be some mistakes... I apologize in advance! -bows-)
Rated : T (...Because I'm paranoid! There, I said it. -huffs-)
Disclaimer : Yeah, yeah, as if I'd own something as barmy as THAT.
The Boy In The Clown-Suit
— Codename-SN
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Entry I
I am not exactly sure when life started to lose its meaning. Sometimes, I wonder, whether it had built up over the years until it reached this point or if it was something else entirely? I guess.. I don't particularly care at the moment. I don't feel sad anymore, but with each passing day my life started to feel more and more.. dull. I don't know what it was, but I guess.. I just lost interest.
— U. Naruto
Loneliness /ˈləʊnlɪnɪs/ : sadness because one has no friends or company.
Uzumaki Naruto.. was a bright child. Literally. His bond hair being enough proof of that, without adding the blinding orange jump-suit he insists on wearing. Every minute of the day. He was also bright because of his personality. The cheerful, optimistic, idiotic and naïve personality of his. Yet, Uzumaki Naruto was not someone unfamiliar with the feeling called loneliness. Not because he knew about it, rather, because he had experienced it first hand.
For as long as he could remember, that was the only thing he felt. That however, does not make it any less painful than it is. It does not not make it any less suffocating, or less agonizing than it is. Even now, at the young age of ten, he could feel it. Like ice under his skin. Like those glares that burned his back. He acted tough. Tried to act as if it did not bother him, reality however, was the complete opposite. He did not crumble though, he would never give them the satisfaction of seeing him crack, as any lesser person would have. He persisted. Then again, how long could he? He was, after all, just a child.
There were instances. Moments when he could not keep up the charade any longer. Some more intense than the others. Moments when he felt like he could just break, crumble into dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, as the supposed saying goes. Still, he was careful. Careful not to crack when in presence of another human being. Careful, only to let the mask drop when he was alone, when he was safe from any prying eyes. When he did though, everything came crashing down on him like a tidal wave and he had to wonder, just how was he going to fix it again? How was he even able to suppress so much? What if he couldn't..? Dear Lord... It was too much. Too fast, and it was suffocating him. Slowly and agonizingly, with every second feeling as if a millennia has passed. As if a python was coiled around his limbs, the glowing, menacing eyes burning his very soul. He did not dare to breathe, afraid it might strike at even the minuscule twitch. It made him feel like he was drowning in a sea of black, the embodiment of darkness and despair, with nothing to pull him up. Not even a spark of light to give him hope, or a hand breaking through the surface to grasp his outstretched palm.
Wait... That was not right either. There was a hand, in fact several pairs of them even, they just were not there to help him. Instead they were chocking him, strangling him, their grip was bruising as they pulled him deeper and deeper towards the murky depths of that abyss.
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He was falling..
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And falling..
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And falling..
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And falling..
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It was so hard to breathe..!
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But he kept falling..
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Or drowning..
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He could not really tell.
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The inky black arms kept smothering him, and he just wanted to breathe but they won't let him. He felt as if he was dying. He started to struggle, in vain might I add as those ugly, deformed, parody of limbs were relentless, even as the tangible darkness seems to seep into his skin making him numb. His eyes itched, as hot tears slid down his cheeks. With a start, he realized he was crying... At least he thought he was, then again, maybe not. Maybe it was all just a delusion of his stressed mind, because he could not feel the tears. Not really. He tried to scream, or yell, or shout, but to no avail. No sound came out of his mouth. There was not even a peep. As if there was a block of lead stuck in his throat that just won't go away. Yet again, he struggled to breathe.
He was gasping, and clawing at the invisible nemesis, teetering at the edge of... something. Whether it was unconsciousness or insanity he did not know, but with every tick of the clock, he was surely losing. After some time, he stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped struggling, stopped trying to get out alive because it did not matter. It never mattered whether he lived or not, whether he survived or not. In the end, it was the same. Regardless, of anything he did. After all, there was nothing he wanted to live for. All this time there has been nothing. Why would it be different now?
When he woke up, with a strained gasp, he felt.. different. He was not particularly sure if it was good or bad but.. Alas, he has the lost the ability to care! His life, somehow, felt.. a little faded around the edges. As if he was watching a movie with one of the oldest projector in existence. As if his life was not his own. As if his body was not his own, and he was just a side character watching the events unfold. As if they did not even matter to him. His senses were dulled, as if he was walking underwater, and he felt like he was floating in the enormity of nothingness. He was not afraid, even though he was, basically, surrounded by a black vacivity, because he knew, that nothing could ever reach him there. He was, after all, surrounded by nothing. Whispers, that once were deafening, words that felt like poison on a serpent's tongue, seemed nothing more than background noise that he does not even notice anymore. His life felt like.. a dream.
For a moment, he had to stop and wonder if he was losing his mind. Then again, it did not really matter and that thought was soon lost into nothingness.
He still smiles, the all too large grin, still makes a fool out of himself. He is still loud and stirs up all kind of trouble, but... if one were to look closely he was not really the same. He gave up, on trying to be acknowledged, on the godforsaken village and the even more dammed villagers, on the world.. on his life. If one were to look closely... It would not be the bright and cheerful eyes that would greet them. They are not the same as they used to be. The pair of cobalt orbs starting back at you are dull, blank.. lifeless and something you just cannot describe. However, you know what it means, you recognize a broken child. Just a child, always a child. You have the sudden urge to ask though, just when did he fall?
Oh, he knew. He had always known, that he fell a long time ago..
A/N : Ah well, you see I wanted to write something for Naruto's birthday.. I just didn't have ideas that would fit for a birthday fic.. So.. I thought I'd just start a new fic today.. -laughs nervously- W-wait..! Before you kill me though, just hear me out! I realize that this is really depressing, but it'll get better! I promise! Don't expect regular updates though, since I'm currently too much obsessed with a new anime/manga (D. Gray-Man!) to write much of anything really. As such I'm leaving this as a stand-alone, for time being, that is. I'll probably do my best to complete my fics! Okay? -smiles sheepishly-