A/N: I would like to thank NarrowBridge for catching my grammatical errors in this piece and, in general, inspiring me to become a better writer. :)
~ Eccentric ~
Every year, for as long as James T. Kirk could remember, his birthday had fallen on the same exact day, a fateful day, one he wished wholeheartedly could be erased from earth's history. And why not, when it was the inevitable tragedy of his father's death anniversary? He had come to acknowledge it, accept it, maybe he even deserved it.
At least, that's what every senseless beating from his stepfather told him, every look of resentment his mother gave him, what his brother had left him with when he was abandoned.
It didn't matter that he was too intelligent for his own good, had exceptional talents and potential.
It didn't matter when he would lay awake at night, yearning to be someone better, to change his fate, to do what was right.
It didn't matter how often he wanted to escape, found comfort in all the wrong ways, and disregarded his own life.
He could count on one hand how often he cried.
It was a fateful day which overshadowed any significance of his birth, a day that had defined who he was for far too long; it had stripped James T. Kirk the innocence of his childhood, optimal maturity, and self-respect.
To his earliest memory, no one had ever believed in him, or so he thought. No one had brought out the best in him. No one had given him the chance.
You know, your father was Captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. And yours.
And every single year, it had always been the same. Until one day…
I dare you to do better.
It wasn't.
A/N: Sometimes, shorter is better. Let me know if you agree. :o)