Am I Beautiful Yet?
A/N: Hello there, this is going to be a MattXMello story, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Alright, this is my first time trying to write this particular couple, but I'm excited. Are you?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, they belong to the creators of Death Note.
Prologues are fun.
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Dear Diary,
Hello. My name is Matt. I'm not exactly sure why I'm talking to this notebook they gave me, what do they expect me to do? Talk to it? It won't answer, so what's the point?
…
Hmm..That sounds good. If it doesn't answer, what's the point of it? I will live by that now. It's a very interesting standard though.
I don't see the point in me.
Does that mean…I shouldn't talk? Diary, should I stop talking?
The same response, huh diary? Nothing. That can answer everything. Nothingness.
Answer everything with nothing.
Seems interesting.
What will they conclude? Are they optimists, interpreting my lack of response with a yes? Or are they negative, pessimists I heard them called. Would they take no answer as a no?
'Are you hungry?' The nameless and faceless will ask. Yes or No?
'Are you thirsty?' Others will ask. Yes or No?
Interpretations show a lot about a person… I could get far. Manipulating people without even speaking. The effort to speak would be annoying to always put forth anyway.
I feel lonely. The only things I have now are my games, this filthy notebook, a few of my clothes, my band aid, and a room mate that I get to have. They said that as if it were a blessing from the Christ himself.
The damn roommate hasn't even shown his fucking face…Damnit…What the hell am I supposed to do with this fucking band aid?! Put it on my forehead?! I think I will!
There. Maybe they'll think twice about giving me a fucking band aid after being through that shit. 'Oh, you're parents are dead? Here's a fucking band aid! THAR, IZ IT AL BETAR?!'
…
…..
Nah, you fucking bastard, my parents are still dead. Completely and utterly dead actually. Sliced up, muscle ripped, bone shattered, dead. Silent as the grave they said they were!
'Such nice parents you had, did you know that? So quiet and kind.'
Oh yeah, you bitch? Did you even speak to them when you saw them at work? Were you at their wake, you loony old hag? Because if you were, I now know how you know how quiet and kind they are. Quiet huh? Silent even? Silent as the dead? Yup. Most definitely.
Me to. I take after my parents apparently. Silent. Silent as the fucking grave. Getting molded by everyone around me by their take on things. Do I like bologna? Well..do I?
Maybe.
Sooo… this is me diary. Nice to meet you, I am the silent and forever being molded piece of clay that everyone puts their hands on, because I have to look exactly how they want me to be.
LOOOVE,
Matt with a Band-Aid on His Forehead
P.S.: What the hell is up with my room mate…Probably has some freak fetish for bondage or some shit like that.
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A/N
P.P.S.: Matt says that reviews are his love candy.