Author's Note: I'm only posting the first four of these... if anybody wants me to post more it will only take a (one, singular) mention to make me do so. I am proud of these, extremely so. I hope everybody understands the concept because I'm willing to take a chance and see if everybody whom does read this understands what context these little posts are in.
As the Days Go By, Things Get Better
Day One: When you lose the only source of light in a dark room do you not try to get that light back at all costs? Not only because you want to see, but because you slowly start to realize the darkness is final, and that begins to scare you. So why would we try and revive our, my, mother? You pose a very good question. Finality is an imposing thing on a child's mind, but I think I already gave you my answer.
Day Two: I felt, nothing. Nothing at all. How could I feel anything when there was nothing left to feel. Everything was gone, nothing, nothing was there. I was the only one, the only thing. I was wrong, there was no way to compensate for her soul, nothing of the same value. Nothing. Actually, I am still wrong. I did feel something; my scream ripping my vocal chords and into the silence for nobody to hear. Though that may not be what you're looking for. After all I could be wrong.
Day Three: Of course not. The reasons for mistakes is to learn from them, to not want to repeat them. That's why we are able to learn as humans, or even a being at all to our own. Things that hurt us, and disappoint us leave a deeper scar in our memories, both conscious and subconscious. With the pain and despair that I brought upon myself, and my brother; why in the hell that is this earthly existence would I attempt another human transmutation. It was a mistake in its own right. I learned more than one thing that night. Why would you even ask such a question, aren't you a trained professional?
Day Four: Honestly, I have no regrets. In a life lead in the here and now, in search of something so much greater than yourself, regret is a luxury that is indispensable. But that was only the case in the hours of light. During the day I had something to do, something to push towards; moving forwards for a reason. For him. My brother. Alphonse. He kept me stable enough to keep on moving without looking back, I could never have done it, or anything without him. But at night. The darkness is another story. There is nothing to do in the darkness, nothing to reach for in a time of rest. Stagnating thoughts build up so quickly when there is no motion. I am left to my own devices, and my own silence is a betrayal. Thoughts are more profound in the silence, or so I believe. At night I can never really trust myself, because I have nothing to occupy my mind, it runs rampant into the past. Blinding me with the stores of emotion I haven't really felt in years. Ask me again later, and then I could possibly answer your question the way you want me to.
