Day 1081

Was This Always Here?

Why does this nip at the back of my mind and draw forth my curiosity; my natural nature? It laps lazy waves that warp into annoying crashes against my weathering conscience. "Why?", and "What?" echoes continually almost monotone every time it awakens my interest—every time I seek it out. I poke and prod then twist my head for a better view. It remains in the same place. But it seems that I must know. I have to counter these now present questions. It rolls around like cannon balls in a glass jar destroying every goal-centered thought that is processed with in me. So, it is now, that I write with much confusion.

It had only occurred to me two moons ago. Maybe it was only yesterday? It is distracting and I haven't been able to pin-point on too much at one time. It puzzles me to have detected this at such a meager glace—at such an indiscriminate instant. Random. Why would I not have acknowledged this and seen the significance before hand? My discovery was founded on permanent routine.

I recall gazing for a large amount of time. When it came to my firm focus, I was entranced. My fingers ran down the ridge of the plane where it rested. Cautiously I dipped my smallest finger in and twirled a slow loop. I switched my small finger with my index and stretched its shape. As I removed my hand it remained in its unique and smooth outline. A droplet of water trickled from it and fell quietly to the floor soaking into the bleach white carpet beneath my bare feet. I shook and whipped more water from my newly dampened hair and skin. As I sat on my bed I had calculated it more. So much, that it had deterred me from slumber. I would fiddle with it; think so deeply that it would evoke deep sighs from my throat, then trace the outline over…and over again.

I had initially known what it meant, but what did it mean? How does this affect Nobodies such as us? I want to suggest these questions to my neophytes, and my cabinet. How much would they know? Would they ponder as I have pondered? Had it crossed their minds? Would they care? Some I do doubt, but others, such as Vexen, would involve their curiosity as have mine.

Indeed, we lack hearts, but we have substitutional flesh and blood to harbor our lost souls. We chase for our spiritual locks and scrounge to keep our essence, but how often does a Nobody notice, and contemplate its body?

I have recently noticed mine. I feel the blood propel through arteries, capillaries, and veins. I feel the rumble of hunger that erupts from my stomach and even makes me nauseous through my esophagus. I can feel when my muscles are fatigued, tender, and aching. But, I finally see-

…That I have a navel.

Those that are born from the womb are marked with a navel. An imprint of a tube granted from a mother to child.

I have heard that they may stick in or out. Mine is an odd combination of both. It's not quite inward toward my body, but it doesn't quite bump out. I shake my head as I inscribe pen to journal paper. I frown at myself. I am rambling over my belly button…?

I shall resist the urges to ask and press such an inane matter. The men would shift weary and peculiar glances. Perhaps I should run this by Vexen. He would at least be interested.

-Until Another Time,

I