Alrighty. My first story, which I dug out of my compy after lazily writing it a couple weeks ago. Ahhh! How exciting!

I kind of twisted everyone's natures around a bit-one can't use creative license, no? Bahaha. Its in progress. Probably a long, slow progress, because I'm horribly lazy.

And for Dawn being dramatic or being completely serious, thats for you to interpret. Becuase honestly, I can't. D:

I don't own pokemon. And I don't like almonds, or fake tans.

Enjoy.


Dawn, 19 years of age, petite female with navy hair, blue eyes. Single, Masters Ribbon in Contests, Caucasian. I'm writing this to question my sanity. My heart is shattering at a breaking point I cannot locate, piece by piece, so I am writing this letter, to you, my precious reader, to give me the assurance that my spirit will not dissolve into a blank, emotionless void. I do not know who you may be, but my cracking heart and spirit and soul: whatever thing that could ever make me love in the first place--goes out to you in near desperation. I hope you will never repeat the same mistakes I did: as I begin to realize that I remain the over confident, naïve girl that I have always been, right from the beginning. Ash said I was simply having a meltdown, that he knew his true nature, and why I should of have never pursued him the first place. But love makes one blind, yes? Yes, of course. I can't seem to find any other excuse of self denial, no matter how hard I rack my mind. All you undeniably lucky, gold-hearted girls reading this: take notes. If you just happen to be of the male gender, take notes and pray to Arceus that you never allow your greedy soul to ever take such a ridiculously shallow path. Mother says I'm being simply melodramatic, but you can never trust a menopausal woman. All I can simply hope is that time heals all wounds.

I was 16 at the time: a hormonal whirlwind, waiting to be emotionally taken advantage of, so to speak. It was the perfect scenario, set up specifically by some divine pokemon power. Exactly how, it didn't matter. All that did was that the experience was perfectly etched into my mind, even if the butterflies had long faded away. A teenage paradise: an unadulterated, no restrictions adventure, where being responsible was simply etiquette for a teenager, for some peculiar reason. Yet behind the wholesome friendships, and pure catholic rivalries, seemed something underlying, something raging, animalistic, and reeking of gluttony and freedom. Because we had freedom. Why couldn't a 16 year old use it? Pokemon, Boys, and endless compassion for free, wherever you went. As if being under the age of 20, simply traveling and being a pokemon trainer, guaranteed the pokemon universe to kiss your righteously "aspiring" ass.

But anyways. Back to business, despite how much I long to just be rid of the thought.

…I remember Ash and Brock, casual as always. We were traveling, trying to locate Ash's missing pink bat creature--exactly what time has blurred, and my mind was clear, fresh and pure and somewhat hungry for a rush of adrenaline. My skin soaked up the summer sun, strangely comforting, as it ran from the nape of my neck down my back. Details like this made the scene to surreal to me: a withered Starly's chirp, how Pikachu seemed to get plumper, how green the foliage seemed to glow. Yet most of all, I remember going through the day, with a braced, curious feeling: as if my body was preparing for something. The feeling escalated as time went on, and I was completely unaware of it until we had just pushed aside the last bush, for whatever reason, and I paused behind the gang. It was at its peak, my stomache muscles were tightened, and I remembered the way my palms were not sweaty, but irregularly warm. Upon looking up, I could feel my metaphorical heart skip a beat…