Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
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Last night I dreamt you cut my eyes out.
You said it was because I'd always cried them out, cried them out saying I see too much, I wish I could never see again, but I've never let you hear it when I do say that.
When I woke up it felt like it wasn't my eyes you'd plucked out, it was my heart, and I felt sick.
I know you'd do that.
I remember the one night I woke up at 3 AM to you slicing patterns in the walls just for the hell of it, just to make sure you could, and I know you'd do it to yourself. It's not a deathwish- just perverse curiosity. Or is it?
Will I ever understand you?
We were both replacements, backups, secondhand reports. You were the one with your identity molded after, but I had my mind stolen and reformed and broken so many times just to make the pieces malleable enough.
I wish I could say it's their fault and be done with it.
Curiosity, control, remodeling, isn't it?
There's no light in here, but you aren't here either, so I'm the only danger. I was always a danger, though, a little used to it now, a little used to all my glorious problems because everyone says with great genius comes great insanity.
All hail the days when the dark side of humanity was siphoned into something we didn't have to understand. Accept, believe, but those are so much easier than understanding in the long run when you do them blind.
Blindness. Yes. The dream.
Part of me wishes I could be here when you find this, but I'm glad I won't be.
Maybe it'll undermine your precious sense of safety in your danger.
Can't think right now, can't write too well.
I'm sorry for everything. Someday I swear to be spectacular, you'll see my name, believe me.
It's funny how fragile it all is. The human mind. You always liked that, it interested you. Not quite as much as how to use it as a tool, as a weapon, but still. The delicacy, the pieces, the soft sound you can hear when it snaps in the cries.
It broke me to hear that. It broke me to have the power. Equal force, can't explain it, you never knew, you were something else. Something else entirely.
In the dream I watched you with the knife, playing until you cut out my sight.
Misguided belief you loved me.
Misguided belief-
that's all it is, that's all everything is.
Big fucking spoilers for the end of the world.
We all die.
Everything's obliterated.
You mean nothing.
The end.
And yet I've never believed that, but I think maybe you genuinely did, and that was the big difference. Biggest, at least.
This is too hard to write, wonder how people keep up journals. Can't be easy to write your mind.
Hell, can't be easy to trust even a piece of paper with things that aren't just more lies to sheath you from the world. At least, it's not for me.
Rapid-fire thoughts, rapid-fire speech, rapid-fire guns stopping rapid-fire hearts, maybe that's what my life will be. I know it won't be cold like some. I couldn't handle that.
Play pretend, that's all I need to do, and say goodnight.
See you in the morning.
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Author's Note: Written half-asleep at 2 in the morning. I did have a dream about cutting someone's eyes out, but I was the one doing it. If you read this, review please? I will love you for ever and ever and ever if you do, I feel so alone with no reviews.