Donna Noble; the most average human being in existence.
At least, that's what you think.
Then again, who could blame you? You're not special, you're not famous and you've certainly never done anything of any merit. What are you? A temp from Chiswick. Just another of the seven billion people on the Earth who thinks your opinion is better than everyone else's; who thinks that shouting at the world will fix it, fix you. Unimportant and easily replaceable.
Yet you still feel so empty.
Your Grandfather has always enthused about the planets that are beyond your own, the other creatures that inhabit them. You always scoff and laugh; honestly, if aliens really existed, they'd have shown up by now, wouldn't they? You still don't believe the stories, the ones about Christmas Day and all those really Ood (wait, Ood? You mean to say odd. Of course you do) things that keep on happening. The government can't sort themselves out so they blame it on something that doesn't even exist. Typical.
No matter how much you deny it, though, whenever you hear of one of those stories something pulls inside of you. It's a feeling you really can't describe, as if you're constantly trying to remember something that you have forgotten. You brush it aside on a daily basis. If it was really that important, you'd remember it, right?
Then why do you feel so lost?
Then of course, there's that weird feeling you get walking into hospitals. There are just so many Doctors and, it's crazy, absolutely bonkers, but you feel as though you can never seem to find the right one. Mental, right?
And why on Earth do you freak out when your Mother starts talking about these new diet pills? You grab them all, throw them out the house telling her that they're dangerous.
"Donna, they're just pills for heaven's sake!"
(She gives you more credit than you deserve, actually. It's as if she knows something that you don't and suddenly she becomes a lot more respectful of the choices you make)
What is wrong with you? Freaking out over such insignificant things!
You push all the strange words, the feelings, the emptiness away and the heaviness of your heart away. You continue living. Day to day. Completely average, unreasonably mundane.
...Yet no matter how much you try to stop yourself, you always look up at the stars when you can't sleep. You always search for something, some kind of sign of something you can't even begin imagine.
It never comes, of course, even though you need it to. (What's wrong with you? Pining after something you can't even put your finger on!)
So, to fill the gap, you continue shouting at the world. At anyone who will listen (which, in retrospect, is usually nobody)
Donna Noble. Shouting at the world in the hope that the thing she needs the most will find her again.
You fear it never will.
You fear that you're losing it.
/edited reupload/
I watched Journey's End for the first time a couple days ago (bit late, I know) and the pangs of utter sadness I felt were matched only with the end of Doomsday and Remus and Tonks' ending in Harry Potter (but that's a different fandom completely) Donna is my absolute favourite companion and Catherine Tate is one of my favourite people ever. I could go on, but I just needed to write something about Donna before I started sobbing. Mmhm.