As I walk on down
I feel like a clown
In a circus of my own
Oh my cover is blown

When I walked, I could feel their eyes on my back and I could hear them whisper about me in what they must have thought were undertones. They were mocking me, yes, mocking me, for a tragic situation over which I had no control. They were mocking me because I had fallen in love with a human. They were mocking me because I had to kill that human. I had to kill Light. I don't think anyone understood how serious it all was to me, not even my so-called 'friends', who apparently thought I had given my heart to a human just so I could joke about it later. I guess I had, by falling for Light, unwittingly revealed my shallowly curious personality to be a façade. A cheap façade, at that.

Feel like I got a heart made of tin
I thought of you this morning

Waking up was the hardest, because it always stung to realize where I was. I was so used to waking up from a good (albeit unnecessary) sleep to the sight of Light's warm-toned bedroom; waking up to the dull scent of Light's cologne— the scent of spice and sophistication. Some mornings, if I was lucky, Light would still be asleep when I woke up, giving me a bit of time to watch him and contemplate his fleeting existence. Yet, even as I saw his lifespan ticking away above his head, I found it impossible to see him dying. When I was watching him sleep, watching him experience the only content he would feel until night came again made me wonder if maybe it was possible that Light was immortal, like a god. It made me wonder if Light was a god.

Well I slip into a state
As I awake
Well I start to find
That I can't get your smoke out of my eyes
I guess I lose
I guess you win
I thought of you this morning

Usually I'd be able to function for a few minutes without thinking of Light after I'd had a bit to eat and gone outside. One morning, that quality, that last shallow illusion of sanity, melted away, and I couldn't get him off of my mind for even a second. What made it worse was how much it showed. Even the Shinigami who were afraid to stare, like Sidoh, would spare a glance in my direction just to make sure it was me and not some other, much more pathetic, person. I found a sort of sick irony hidden in my vulnerability, because I could remember a conversation Light had with me, or rather with himself, about the definition of importance.

"You know you're an important person," he said confidently, "when you are on the mind of someone who isn't with you. I am on the minds of a million people who don't even know what I look like. I am important."

I laughed bitterly at the knowledge that he wasn't with me, but I was thinking of him incessantly. As usual, his seemingly narcissistic observations about the world were proven correct.



Well I think about all the other ways I could've played
All the other simple moves I could've made
All the other cards that I could've dealt
All the books I didn't read upon my shelf
All the other ways I could've sung my songs
I've realized that none of it went wrong
It was all play

Maybe if I had tried a little harder to show him how much he meant to me, I'd have walked away with better memories. Maybe if I'd said a couple more words to him, I'd have had someone for a while. Maybe if I hadn't written his name in the Death Note, I wouldn't be the miserable person I am now. There was so much I could have done, but I had to kill him. I had to keep up appearances, or so I thought. Although now, killing him to keep up an image of impartialness and superiority seemed idiotic, considering what a mess that decision had made of me. But if I hadn't written his name, what would have happened? He would have rotted in prison, and I would have to be there to watch it all. That would have been too much for me; I knew it then and I know it now. Anyways, hadn't going to the human world been intended as a temporary salvation from boredom? I guess it was my fault. I let my little scheme for amusement get out of control, and falling in love was the price I paid. I let my love get out of control, and my love turning into someone else, someone horrible, was the price I paid. I let my horrible love get out of control, and my love dying was the price I paid.

How could it be any other way?