Life Goes On, Or Does It?
Midget: Okay, this just kind of came to me. Tell me what you think, will ya?
Disclaimer: I STILL don't own digimon. That doesn't mean I'm not working on it, though!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can't believe it's been a whole year. It seems like much longer. Our time together seemed so short and our time apart ..... well, it was longer, but it was nothing like this. Time's just funny like that I guess.
My eyes begin to water and it takes me several minutes to fight back my tears. I can't cry, not now. Not after I've held them back for so long. If I cry, I'll have broken my promise not to, the promise I gave you just before you left. That would mean letting you down again. I can't do that. Not this time, anyways.
Wearily, I run a hand over the stubble on my face. It feels so scratchy against my hand, almost like sandpaper. I can feel it shaking, so I pull it back to look at. Blinking, I stare at it in surprise. When did my hand get so thin and bony? Moving my fingers, I'm struck by its resemblance to a skeleton's hand. For some reason, I'm compelled to glance down at the rest of my body.
What I see astounds me. The clothes which once fit me so well now hang down baggily, making it seem like it was a stick man wearing them. This couldn't really be what I look like, could it?
I wander over to a mirror, vaguely curious. A part of my mind has grabbed onto this idea and is fully encouraging it. It's the only thing I've actually thought of since you left. The only idea that has gotten through to me.
Standing before the mirror, I'm shocked to find that my eyes were right. The skin on my face is drawn so taughtly that it almost looks like a mask and large purple rings stand out like bruises against its pasty white color. My eyes are dull and so clouded that they look as gray as storm clouds. Limp, greasy locks almost as brown as Tai's hair hang down over my forehead and down the sides of my head. I can't really see the rest of me because my dirty, disheveled clothing hangs so loosely. They look like I rolled around in dirt or something. If you add the creases that have been made to that, they could probably stand up on their own.
Sadly enough, I find myself quickly loosing interest. The part of my mind that was encouraging it screamed and kicked, but it was no use. I shuffled over to my couch and sit down, then fall over. My eyes stare unseeingly at the wall. It has become one of my favorite hobbies, you know.
After a while I hear someone knocking at my door. Idly I wonder how much time has passed and how long it will take them to go away. The noise stops a moment later. I guess it didn't take that long at all.
Then I hear the sound of someone opening my door. I wonder if it is a burglar. Maybe he'll kill me and end my miserable life. A flicker of excitement courses through my veins and I find myself hoping that whoever it is will kill me. That wouldn't be breaking my other promise, would it? If another killed me, technically I wouldn't be choosing not to continue with my life, right?
Before my feeble mind can process an answer, I hear a voice calling out to me. Since it is calling my name, I guess it must be one of my friends. Someone must have decided to come back and try again, even after I told them to leave me alone. I wonder which one it could be. The voice is familiar, but I can't figure out who it is.
"Matt, are you here," the voice asks. The sound of careful footsteps draws closer. "Matt, please answer me."
No, I think silently to myself. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want anyone around me. All I ant is to be left alone!! But I don't say any of it. Why would I? It's just too much effort to go through.
"Matt, there you are," the voice says, its tone relieved. Relieved? Why would the person be relieved?
"Matt," the voice questions hesitantly as its steps move closer. A pair of crisp black slacks block the wall from view. Then the owner of the voice crouches down to look me in the eye. Carefully tamed red hair frames anxious eyes that search mine worriedly. A hand reaches out to touch me gently, but I recoil.
"Leave me alone," I try to shout, but my voice barely comes out as a croak. I guess I haven't used my voice much lately.
Izzy's eyes narrow. "No, I won't leave you like this," he says in a determined tone. His voice is calm and the volume is normal. "I'm staying right here."
I'm surprised. Everyone else had either yelled at me and stormed out or just quietly faded away. There had been pleas, threats, and attempts at force through physical means or by blackmail. No one had ever calmly told me they wouldn't leave, though.
"Whatever," I manage to whisper, my voice still failing me. Curling my body as much as my aching joints would allow, I let my mind withdraw into the fog that has protected it. The fog kind of reminds me of the one that covered the city when we fought Myotismon. Thick and impenetrable.
"Matt, you've got to listen to me!"
Izzy's tone, more than his words, got through to me. I look at him, slightly confused. Why did he sound so desperate? A part of my mind recognized that he shouldn't, so why did he? What is wrong?
"Matt, I know this has been hard for you," he continues. Now there's an understatement if ever I heard one, I think bitterly.
"Matt, you've got to snap out of this," Izzy says harshly, pulling me into a sitting position. He shakes me, not too roughly but hard enough to get my attention. The fear in the gentle eyes that look into mine grabs moves me. In a serious tone he says, "Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're nothing like you used to be."
"Yeah, well that obviously wasn't much to begin with," I snap, my voice breaking. I can't even summon the energy to curse at it. All the energy I have to spare is focused on making sense of Izzy's next words.
"Yes, it was. It is now, or would be if you just tried a little," he replies in an earnest tone. Sincerity rings in his voice and shines from his eyes. I thought that was someone else's crest, though.
I just shrug. There's nothing else to do. What do you say to someone who refuses to give up on something you quit caring about a long time ago? Especially when that something is your own life?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, what do you think? I haven't really decided what happened to the person who Matt is mourning or who it is yet, so I'd appreciate your input. Also, if you have an idea as to where you'd like to see this go, tell me in a review. The only two characters I know of so far that are definitely going to be in this little series as the main characters are Matt and Izzy. Well, thanks for reading. Bye!
Midget: Okay, this just kind of came to me. Tell me what you think, will ya?
Disclaimer: I STILL don't own digimon. That doesn't mean I'm not working on it, though!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can't believe it's been a whole year. It seems like much longer. Our time together seemed so short and our time apart ..... well, it was longer, but it was nothing like this. Time's just funny like that I guess.
My eyes begin to water and it takes me several minutes to fight back my tears. I can't cry, not now. Not after I've held them back for so long. If I cry, I'll have broken my promise not to, the promise I gave you just before you left. That would mean letting you down again. I can't do that. Not this time, anyways.
Wearily, I run a hand over the stubble on my face. It feels so scratchy against my hand, almost like sandpaper. I can feel it shaking, so I pull it back to look at. Blinking, I stare at it in surprise. When did my hand get so thin and bony? Moving my fingers, I'm struck by its resemblance to a skeleton's hand. For some reason, I'm compelled to glance down at the rest of my body.
What I see astounds me. The clothes which once fit me so well now hang down baggily, making it seem like it was a stick man wearing them. This couldn't really be what I look like, could it?
I wander over to a mirror, vaguely curious. A part of my mind has grabbed onto this idea and is fully encouraging it. It's the only thing I've actually thought of since you left. The only idea that has gotten through to me.
Standing before the mirror, I'm shocked to find that my eyes were right. The skin on my face is drawn so taughtly that it almost looks like a mask and large purple rings stand out like bruises against its pasty white color. My eyes are dull and so clouded that they look as gray as storm clouds. Limp, greasy locks almost as brown as Tai's hair hang down over my forehead and down the sides of my head. I can't really see the rest of me because my dirty, disheveled clothing hangs so loosely. They look like I rolled around in dirt or something. If you add the creases that have been made to that, they could probably stand up on their own.
Sadly enough, I find myself quickly loosing interest. The part of my mind that was encouraging it screamed and kicked, but it was no use. I shuffled over to my couch and sit down, then fall over. My eyes stare unseeingly at the wall. It has become one of my favorite hobbies, you know.
After a while I hear someone knocking at my door. Idly I wonder how much time has passed and how long it will take them to go away. The noise stops a moment later. I guess it didn't take that long at all.
Then I hear the sound of someone opening my door. I wonder if it is a burglar. Maybe he'll kill me and end my miserable life. A flicker of excitement courses through my veins and I find myself hoping that whoever it is will kill me. That wouldn't be breaking my other promise, would it? If another killed me, technically I wouldn't be choosing not to continue with my life, right?
Before my feeble mind can process an answer, I hear a voice calling out to me. Since it is calling my name, I guess it must be one of my friends. Someone must have decided to come back and try again, even after I told them to leave me alone. I wonder which one it could be. The voice is familiar, but I can't figure out who it is.
"Matt, are you here," the voice asks. The sound of careful footsteps draws closer. "Matt, please answer me."
No, I think silently to myself. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want anyone around me. All I ant is to be left alone!! But I don't say any of it. Why would I? It's just too much effort to go through.
"Matt, there you are," the voice says, its tone relieved. Relieved? Why would the person be relieved?
"Matt," the voice questions hesitantly as its steps move closer. A pair of crisp black slacks block the wall from view. Then the owner of the voice crouches down to look me in the eye. Carefully tamed red hair frames anxious eyes that search mine worriedly. A hand reaches out to touch me gently, but I recoil.
"Leave me alone," I try to shout, but my voice barely comes out as a croak. I guess I haven't used my voice much lately.
Izzy's eyes narrow. "No, I won't leave you like this," he says in a determined tone. His voice is calm and the volume is normal. "I'm staying right here."
I'm surprised. Everyone else had either yelled at me and stormed out or just quietly faded away. There had been pleas, threats, and attempts at force through physical means or by blackmail. No one had ever calmly told me they wouldn't leave, though.
"Whatever," I manage to whisper, my voice still failing me. Curling my body as much as my aching joints would allow, I let my mind withdraw into the fog that has protected it. The fog kind of reminds me of the one that covered the city when we fought Myotismon. Thick and impenetrable.
"Matt, you've got to listen to me!"
Izzy's tone, more than his words, got through to me. I look at him, slightly confused. Why did he sound so desperate? A part of my mind recognized that he shouldn't, so why did he? What is wrong?
"Matt, I know this has been hard for you," he continues. Now there's an understatement if ever I heard one, I think bitterly.
"Matt, you've got to snap out of this," Izzy says harshly, pulling me into a sitting position. He shakes me, not too roughly but hard enough to get my attention. The fear in the gentle eyes that look into mine grabs moves me. In a serious tone he says, "Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're nothing like you used to be."
"Yeah, well that obviously wasn't much to begin with," I snap, my voice breaking. I can't even summon the energy to curse at it. All the energy I have to spare is focused on making sense of Izzy's next words.
"Yes, it was. It is now, or would be if you just tried a little," he replies in an earnest tone. Sincerity rings in his voice and shines from his eyes. I thought that was someone else's crest, though.
I just shrug. There's nothing else to do. What do you say to someone who refuses to give up on something you quit caring about a long time ago? Especially when that something is your own life?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, what do you think? I haven't really decided what happened to the person who Matt is mourning or who it is yet, so I'd appreciate your input. Also, if you have an idea as to where you'd like to see this go, tell me in a review. The only two characters I know of so far that are definitely going to be in this little series as the main characters are Matt and Izzy. Well, thanks for reading. Bye!