I felt like writing something about Itachi. Because Itachi is cool like that.
X-x-x-x-x-x-
I am a killer.
A cold-blooded killer from birth.
Blood keeps me alive, but not in the way most people would think. The sight of it, so red and thick and beautiful...that is what keeps me alive, keeps the adrenaline pumping, helps me survive till the next day when it begins all over again; my never-ending, constant cycle of life.
I am a killer.
I live to kill, not to feel.
And certainly not to love.
I don't know the meaning of the word, and frankly, I don't care to. Maybe a long, long time ago I did, but the blood has purged it from me, from my being, and I am glad. Who wants to remember a thing like love?
It only destroys, more so than death.
I live for death.
It may sound ironic, but in reality – that is what we all do. We all live for death. Death is a part of life, isn't it? The most important, integral part of it, as well.
I live because there is nothing else to do.
I am left with no choice but to live.
A long time ago, I met a little boy. I was supposed to kill that boy; I really was. But something happened that day.
I didn't kill him.
Why not?
Only God knows.
But I did something worse than kill him. I screwed up his entire, pathetic life. I filled him with so much hate that he couldn't help but be blinded by it, choked by it, and suffocated by it all at the same time. I filled him with so much hate that I tainted and ruined the life I was supposed to take away.
Why did I do it?
Only God knows.
I told him that it was good to hate; that hate was a marvelous thing. That the hate would make him stronger.
Was I right?
Probably not.
I was supposed to kill that boy; I really was.
So why didn't I?
X-x-x—xx-
Um...Itachi's persepective on his life, I guess. Random blurb. Itachi is so hot. 3