(A/N: Hi everyone! Here is a Naminé story. I LOVE Naminé. Obliviously. Make sure to read 'p e r f e c t i o n' by noraa Fanfiction is being a butt and I can't link it. Oh yay!

Summary: Naminé wanted to be prefect like Kairi. She wanted to be loved by Sora. Naminé loved Sora. But Naminé is not perfect. Kairi is perfect and Sora loves prefect. Naminé will do anything to get back her 'friend'.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Kingdom Hearts, Kairi, Naminé, Sora, Riku, Square-Enix, Disney. I do own the story, but not the inspiration. I also own Sora's outfit.)

Insanity

Naminé stood naked in front of her mirror in her bathroom. She looked at herself in distaste. She had flat breast, completely white (Almost as white as her drawing paper) hair, no curves (She never fully grew), and her deathly pale white skin. Sora had always said it was beautiful that she was a porcelain doll.

Naminé was nothing like the "Princess". The "Princess" had full breasts, stunning crimson wine-colored red hair, to die for curves, and a faultless sun-kissed tan. Sometimes Naminé wanted to tell the "Princess" that she's not real princess. But no, Naminé had to keep quiet about that.
She sighed and closed her eyes blindly reaching for the razor. She didn't cut her fingers.

"Damn it," Naminé cursed opening her eyes. She brought her left arm to eye level and started at her pure white skin. Soon you'll go pink. Naminé thought smiling. She placed the razor against her skin and cut herself. She watched as the ruby red blood fell to her shoulder, staining her striking white skin crimson. Naminé frowned. One cut won't do it. So she slashed the same wrist only deeper making the blood go scarlet. Placing her left wrist on top of her hair, she watched it go disgusting red. She cut her other wrist and placed both upon her undeveloped chest. It's not like there going to grow or anything. Naminé thought staring at her breasts. She was a Nobody. They stopped growing in a way. Sure she would get taller, but that's about it. However she was special so she might grow everywhere. But somehow Naminé didn't believe that.

She watched the blood trickle down her legs in just two lines; one for each leg. Naminé smiled bitterly. Another difference we have. You're pure and clean like water. I'm disgusting and hated like blood. I might be white and you pink, but now we exchange. Naminé's eyes widened in horror as she finally realized that she was losing blood. She started to panic when she realized that this was the only way to be perfect. So she raised the razor to her neck and cut straight across, just not enough to kill herself. …Yet.

The cherry blood spilled down, soaking her body into a more disgusting shade of red. It spilled upon her the floor, staining her white mat pink. Naminé glared at the mat is distaste. Naminé felt herself lose more blood. Might as well do it now.

Slowly, ever so slowly she walked out her bathroom, down the stairs, through the kitchen and through he living room. She grasped the cool golden knob of her pallid door. It was one of the few things that had color in her house. Naminé gazed at it. It was the first thing she had painted.

But she had no time for flashbacks. Opening the door, her blood splattered all on the white door, while the golden knob melted off. She stepped outside, bare, and closed the door behind her (A/N: Keep in mind that she's still losing blood. So the whole house is cover in blood). The cool September wind did not disturb her. In fact, the wind was disturbed by her, and completely stopped all together. Naminé smiled and stepped onto the grass. The grass (already rusted) died from the blood spilling from her neck. Naminé, still smiling like she was insane, walked down her street determined. No one was on her street. That was not unusual. Up the hill and to the left was where she was, Turning right on 15th street, she ceased smiling. No one was around. Strange. Naminé thought, but still she walked on all the way to the last house on the right. She knocked on the red door where the number 15 was written. She had been here many times before. The door opened, and Naminé fell. Someone caught her.

It was Sora. Her one and true love.

Sora was wearing a navy blue t-shirt that showed his muscles. (A/N: He's been working out with Riku. Besides, you think fight Heartless for a year won't get you buffed up?) He also had dark dark blue jeans that reached past his ankles. And then his giant ass shoes which where black with lots of zippers and what-have-you.

"Kairi!" Sora shouted. Am I only Kairi to you? Naminé thought, the name vile to her. Am I just Kairi and not Naminé? Am I not the girl who you promised to be real friends with? Am I not the girl you said you forgave even after I screwed your memories? Am I not the girl who fixed your memories? …I guess not. Naminé heard Sora to continue to shout 'Kairi' but never 'Naminé'.

Finally comprehension struck her. She went insane to be Kairi and she thought Sora loved perfection, which was Kairi. Naminé at long last saw that Sora was always near her than Kairi.

Insanity. The word rang into her head. But Naminé chuckled at her foolishness and coughed blood on Sora's shirt. It was white. Naminé finally heard what Sora had been shouting all this time.

"Naminé! Wake up Naminé! Please don't die on me!" Naminé, with the last of her strength, kissed Sora on the lips.

"I'm sorry it took me this long to realize that you love me too." And then Naminé closed her eyes and felt something she hadn't in a long time:

Sane.