Author's Note: Beneath this line is a cheerful drabble I wrote to commemorate Gaara's birthday, which is today, the 19th of February. Please enjoy and please review after reading. As always, constructive crit is highly appreciated and requested even but please also add a special 'Happy Birthday' to our favourite young Kazekage! Happy Birthday Gaara!
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
For as long as he could remember, he had been alone. When he had been younger, he'd been isolated from his family, his peers, his village and the rest of the outside world; everyone thought him to be a monster, a freak that only brought about death and horror wherever he went.
He'd never had friends and enemies or rivals were hard to come by as well. Too many were scared of him to admit outright that they hated him or thought he was weird. Thus, he had been forced to become accustomed to being hated, to not trust, and to not having any love in his life, making him despise everything around him. What was the point to life when everything was so empty, when you were so alone? He decided that his purpose was to kill; that was the only way he could find a good enough excuse for his existence. A killing machine that could also be used as a tool when needed…needed; the word seemed so foreign to him and he was certain that he had never been such a thing to the village or his family. Needed? Pschh, they'd be better off without him.
Earlier on in his life however, when he had still been young, naïve and innocent (and had suffered for it) he'd tried to form bonds with those around him. He had once truly believed that if he was kind enough, gentle enough, the other children and villagers would take note of that and begin to love him, to respect him, to befriend him. Later on he had learned that this was not the way this cruel world he lived in operated; no one who was a "freak" was given that chance, the one to become normal and accepted nor the chance to become loved.
Despite that dark and desolate state of mind, no matter how old he got or how much he learned, there was still the small part of him who dared to dream, who dared to hope for something more. That part of him would eventually resurface and be given light after he had met his possibly only friend at that time, Naruto. The blonde-haired boy, also knowing the loneliness that came along with being a Jinchuuriki, had attempted to show him that, if you tried, anything was possible; that if you believed and worked hard, you'd have friends and would earn others' respect.
Thus, little by little, after much careful observing, the dreamer side of himself started to grow in faith and hope, almost believing that what he wanted, what he had craved the most since his childhood days, could happen; the world could begin to accept and respect him, view him as just another excellent shinobi, just another kind young man. He hungrily fed on that belief, and through perseverance and an opened mind, he had gotten what he had sought out all his life: respect from the others in Sunagakure and a purpose to live.
It had taken him a while to believe it, but now that he was here in his home in the Kazekage tower, on his sixteenth birthday, surrounded all the young shinobi of Konoha and nearly all of Suna outside of his balcony door, chanting his name along with various praises, he knew that believing had been worth it; he had finally found what he had been looking for; he'd finally found love.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed the fic and please do not forget about that constructive criticism! And most definitely do not forget about wishing Gaara a very Happy Birthday!