IT MUST BE WONDERFUL INDEED

Based on the old old OLD song by Franz List. Yes, a songfic.

Summary: Gaz's disturbing narrative about how her hatred of the love between Dib and Zim turned to a dangerous obsession with Zim and how it left her alone.

A/N: In writing this, I tried to keep in mind how Gaz would think. How she would react to love, to hate, to loneliness, to sadness, and loss. I wanted to give her a reason as to why she is so dark and alone. I wanted to show that if she had opened up, she would have gotten hurt.

Disclaimer: Right, I do not, under any circumstances, own Invader Zim or any of its characters. Unfortunately, Jhonen Vasquez is the genius behind that. I do not own the song "It Must Be Wonderful Indeed," which is also unfortunate. It was written by Franz List and is copywrited by some weird Italian company.

On with the show! And review!

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It must be wonderful indeed

Two loving souls revealing

When I was little, I thought they were fucked up. I thought they were sick and demented and I wanted the both of them to just shrivel up and die or go be freaks somewhere else.

Damn the both of them to whatever hell they find worse.

I wondered about their sanity--Dib's, especially. That idiot, he would wander around our hallway at night, yelling about how he was "fratenizing with the enemy." And I would tell him he was a fucking lunatic and sick and needed some real help.

Their thoughts as one in harmony

And ne're a word concealing

The more they were together, the more I was convinced that they were contagious. They started spending the night at our house and fucking in Dib's room and moaning and groaning and making me want to rip my ears off so I couldn't hear them anymore.

Sick, sick, sick. Both of them, sick.

But if they were so sick, what was I? What the hell was I?

And joy and pain

Success and need

And then I started thinking, y'know? What if I was the sick one? What if those two faggots were living life how it was supposed to be lived?

What if I were the insane one?

And then, I started looking at Zim differently. I started to think, "Well, he can't be all that bad. Can't be all that sick. Right?" And I tricked myself into thinking that I could feel and I could love and people would care that I did. I made myself think that I cared about him, that I loved him, that I was as sick as they were, and that it fucking mattered.

They so together blending

They so together blending

And I guess that Zim started thinking differently too, that maybe he wasn't a fairy, and sometimes, y'know, the way he looked at me when I ate or drank or played video games or breathed or did anything was just so unnerving. Like he wanted me and needed me as much as I wanted and needed him, y'know? Like he was saying, "Forget Dib, I want you."

And the days he and Dib weren't fucking turned to be the days that he and I were fucking. Hot, passionate, wet, weird, and I thought it was love, I really did. I thought, "Wow, this is the person I want to spend my life with no matter what and I want to marry him so fuck my faggot brother."

From love's first kiss

Until the tomb

I wanted more and more and more. If he was with Dib, I cried or cut or drank or sniffed myself stupid so that when they came back I wouldn't have a fit. But the days Zim and I were together...those days were bliss. Those days were the days where I wanted and needed and lusted for life. I wanted to live every second of it with Zim and move into an apartment in the city and kiss him every day and every night and every moment that he breathed...

And I guess Dib started to notice things. Like when we ate dinner and Zim would only look at me, even when Dib was talking. How Dad, oblivious fuck that he was, would comment on the noises coming from my room.

"Are you having nightmares, daughter?" he would ask, and Dib would give me the strangest look, like he suspected something, but couldn't quite piece it together. I didn't think he would. I didn't think he could. How could his Zim, his beloved, betray him like that?

To speak of love

Unending

But Zim, goddamnit, he was too nice and too considerate. He wouldn't make love to me anymore because he "couldn't take the look on Dib's face." What look? He just looked bewildered and confused and lost like he didn't have any idea what the fuck was going on. And so I saw less and less of my Zim and heard more and more of him moaning and groaning in the room nextdoor and Dib screaming his name.

And I wanted to kill him.

It should have been me screaming his name in ecstacy and not Dib, who was so needy and sick and horrible and disgusting. Not Dib. Goddammit, he took the only thing I loved away from me.

To speak of love

Unending

And I hate him. God I hate him so much.

It...it must be wonderful...to be loved.

It must be wonderful indeed.

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END

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HOWEVER

Do not flame me on my grammar. The run-on sentences are MEANT to be there, as part of the unstrung thoughts of the narrative.