A/N: Hey hey. So here I am with a tragedy fic. Recently someone requested that I write a tragedy fic so I decided to do one just to see what it would be like (and to please the person who requested it)

Note: This is about Sora…if any of you can't really guess who it is.

Please keep in mind, tragedy fics are not where I excel. I don't know how good this is (I don't think its good…but whatever) But I tried. So hope you like.

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It's kind of funny, this situation. I used to be so bright and full of joy. I always was one to seek adventure. I needed adventure. It helped me feel complete. I set out one day, leaving everything I knew behind. I was always searching for something more. Something that will ease my restless mind.

I was an optimist they say. Weak in stature but strong in heart. I never gave up, even when I lost. I was always up for a challenge. Ready to take on anyone and everyone. I was strong.

Things have changed now. They no longer look to me when they're weak. They no longer see someone worth sticking too. Worth standing next to. I thought she loved me. And oh, I loved her so much. But like always, he took something away from me. He was always better than me. More handsome, stronger, more 'reliable'. I don't blame her for leaving me. I don't blame him for taking her.

It feels funny you know. Hatred is something I'll never understand. I despise using that word, and I've never once used it for anything. That is anything but myself. I don't understand that powerful word and its true meaning. But for me, it means to loathe. And how I loathe myself.

It's funny, this situation. The metal against my heart. I wielded a keyblade, something so powerful it only designates one wielder. It was amazing, pure and strong. It was for the strong of heart. It was for me. But the keyblade was wrong. I am not strong. I am a coward. I want to escape life, not face it.

It's funny, this situation. The way the barrel clicks. It reminds me of a clock for some reason. Ticking away our lives, seconds…minutes…hours…days. I never knew I wouldn't make it past my 18th birthday. I always imagined myself growing old, with her as my wife and my best friend by my side. We would have kids, me and her, two boys and two girls.

It's funny, this situation. The way my blood runs cold as I stare at myself in the mirror. I want to see myself go. I want to see the blood splatter against the walls and my body fall to the floor. I want to feel myself hit the back of the wall and bust my head open. I want to feel my insides seep outside of my wretched skin. I want to see my sin go down the vents and make the air smell like death.

And 'click.' Just like that.

It's funny, this situation. The way the room explodes. The way my ears snap as the sound bounces off the walls. The way I don't feel anything. They way I can't breathe. I see red. Crimson red, all over the ceiling, the walls, the floor. I see it on the barrel as it slips from my paralyzed fingers. I see it seeping from the hole in my chest. I see it on the bullet that's lying across the floor…blown straight through my body.

It's funny, this situation. The way my eyes stare at nothing as I count my last breaths. The way I pray for forgiveness from the God who never loved me. From the God who never cared. My sin is on the floor, warm and red. And he knows, and he'll try to clean it up. But God's pure white can't hide the stains of my blood. White can't wipe away red. Love can't wipe away sin.

It's funny, this situation. How I close my eyes as if falling asleep. How I count my breaths.

One…two…three…four.

How I wish I didn't do it.

Five…six…seven…eight.

How I hope no one ever finds me.

Nine…ten…eleven…twelve.

How I pray that they do.

Thirteen…

It's funny, this situation. How my 'strong' heart is now no more. How my body is now no more. How my soul is now no more.

It's funny…

It's all so funny,

It's funny,

So laugh.

Because my life was a joke.

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A/N: Yeah…so that's my attempt. –cough- (hides under pile of pillows and prays that nobody will kill me)

Peace