Ok, I'm finally back!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As quite a few of you already know (I've been complaining a lot to those who email me), I got banned for a month. I wrote 6 stories during that time, though! Here's the 1st one. R&R onegai! And no, I don't care if it's OOC. I've only just been introduced to Marik a few weeks ago, and even then, I don't know if it's the hikari or the Yami. Someone please tell me!! The song is called 'Imaginary' and it's by Evanescence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Imaginary

They tell me I'm psychotic. They stare at me every time I pass them, whispering pointedly among themselves. One of them even had the nerve to talk to me the other day. He told me he could help me, if I just let him. I punched him on the jaw. He stared at me, stunned, but I just smiled—probably the way a psycho would—and walked away. I don't want his pity. I don't want his help… or anybody else's, for that matter. I can fend for myself. It's accepting help that got me into this in the first place.

You see, I'm not the psychotic one. And those whispering idiots have no idea what they're talking about. They can't judge me, or my life, because they know nothing about either subject. They have no idea what it's like to have to be alone. To have to hide in the shadows, because getting close to anyone will destroy me. I can't get close to them. He will kill me if I do. And besides, I don't want to. Especially to one of them. The one who talked to me. He says that person is responsible for my misery, my pain. I don't believe him. I know he is the one responsible. I know he is the one that took them away, that got rid of him. I know why he did it, too. They were in his way. But for some reason, I'll still listen to him when he tells me they've betrayed me. I think it's because it's just easier this way. It's so much easier to give in, because that way, I'll get a little bit of peace. Sometimes. But then, usually he's screaming at me for one thing or another. Take, for example, my alarm clock. He hates it with a passion matched only by his hatred of the Pharaoh. And lately I'm beginning to feel the same way. That alarm clock only gives him an excuse to yell at me, insult me… take over my head. Hurt me in ways no mortal ever could.

*~*~*~*~*

I linger in the doorway

Of alarm clock screaming

Monsters calling my name

*~*~*~*~*

But today I don't have to worry. Today there's no reason to fear the alarm clock, or the consequences I will suffer if it goes off. He's out of the house today. What else is new? He's always out of the house lately. He won't tell me where he's going, either. I've tried to get him to tell me, many times, but he won't. He did actually try to get me to come with him once, though, but I refused. It doesn't matter where he's going, or what he'll do there. I don't want to come. I'd much rather stay here, my face pressed against the window, watching the wind blow through the trees and the rain pound against the glass.

*~*~*~*~*

Let me stay

Where the wind will whisper to me

Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story

*~*~*~*~*

Which leads me to the reason most people, if not all of them, think I'm psychotic. It's because I usually act like I am. I'm a total recluse (his fault, not mine), I talk to a murderer in my head, and according to them, I delight in the pain of others. I don't I just act like I do. I've even killed to keep the pretence up and the truth down. It hurt like hell, and at first I hated myself for it, but it's better than the alternative, living in the real world. Mine is so much more forgiving, and peaceful. I spend hours there.

*~*~*~*~*

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

*~*~*~*~*

They tell me I'm delusional. He tells me I'm weak, and don't understand the kind of things one sometimes has to do to survive. They're all wrong. I'm not delusional. I know exactly what the truth is. And I'm not weak. I know exactly what it takes to survive. I was forced to learn at a very early age.

*~*~*~*~*

Don't say I'm out of touch

With this rampant chaos your reality

I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge

*~*~*~*~*

That's exactly why I built this dream world. I didn't build it because I think I have no other world to live in. I built it so I'd have an escape from a world that's all too real.

*~*~*~*~*

The nightmare I built my own world to escape

*~*~*~*~*

They're not the only ones he hates. He treats me even worse than he treats them. At one time or another, he's taken everything I own, including my loved ones, my pride, and my innocence. But really, losing that didn't matter to me much at the time. In fact, I barely noticed it happening. I cut myself off from it, barricaded myself in my world. I simply could not be bothered with things like that, because I was too busy trying to decide whether to paint my dream room blue or green. Blue would go with the curtains, but then, green would match the bed and the table. The lampshade's posing problems. I have yet to figure out how anything that disgusting shade of hot pink found its way into my room. It has to go.

*~*~*~*~*

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

*~*~*~*~*

But there are other times when that place is not so easy to get to. He's hurt me so badly at times, I'd be too wounded to travel there. Like when he flashed images of all the loved ones I've ever lost through my head in rapid succession. Then images of how I'd lost them. I woke up screaming and crying from that real life nightmare. I screamed so loud, I had laryngitis for a week. And yet, I was glad I did. It showed me that I was not becoming cold and heartless like him, despite his efforts. It showed me that I would never be forced to wake up in the middle of the night to complete silence.

*~*~*~*~*

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming

Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights

*~*~*~*~*

But sometimes I just want to end it. Sometimes I do just want to wake up to silence. Or to not wake up at all.

*~*~*~*~*

Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming

The goddess of imaginary light

*~*~*~*~*

But I know I can't. That's just not an option for me. He simply will not let me do it. And so I must remain here, half in one world and half in the other. That's why I act like I do. That's why I let them talk about me behind my back. That's why I let them call me psychotic. That's what I have to be. It's all I have left. So when that's gone, what will I have?

*~*~*~*~*

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

*~*~*~*~*