(A/N: This is a songfic, but the title and the basic premise are mentioned only. No lyrics, so it's not copyright infringement.)
They don't care for me, I know, but that's alright. I've learned to accept it by now, you see, long ago, I decided to become a pessimist. No one likes a pessimist, but I've understood it to be the best way to deal with life. Some ask me why I'm a pessimist, and I always like to think that I always have been, but deep down, I know that's not true. Someone made me that way.
Her name was Whitetail. She was perhaps the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my whole life, so beautiful, I could look at her all day, that is, if she weren't on the midday patrol half the time. She wasn't like the other cats, I could tell. Her eyes had that look in them of depth, the ability to look at your soul for all its parts. I only got the courage to talk to her at all moons later, but I was glad I did. She always saw the parts of folks, all their horrible secrets and thoughts, their love, their apathy. And wouldn't you know, she thought they were worth something. But good things can never last.
One night, as we were sitting by the lake, she looked at me. She looked at me in the way she had looked at the others a thousand times before, and I realized that I was being judged. And what she said next took me by surprise.
"Oakfur", she asked, "You still believe in love, don't you?"
A bit startled, I replied, "Yes, I suppose."
"I've come to the conclusion", she replied, "That no one can really love."
"Whatever do you mean?", I asked.
"In the end, whatever we do, for whatever reason we do it, is for ourselves."
I stopped and thought for a second about that.
"What if I told you", I said, "That I love you."
"Then you do no more than pledge your heart to me forever.", she said.
"Isn't that love?", I asked.
"Not if I break it.", she calmly retorted.
And with that, she simply ran into the lake. I didn't even stop her. She was right, after all, she broke my heart. And with that I swore my life to that of a pessimist. People don't get it, but that's okay, because in a way, pessimism keeps my heart alive.
They never did find the body, nor did they ask anything about it. They kept walking around, doing their own chores and frivolous tasks. And that was proof enough for me. The world was calloused and destroyed those who weren't. The world is ugly, hateful, and impure. One can only hope to be the same way.
(A/N: In case you didn't already know, this fic is a collection of short stories based on the album Insomniac by a certain group called something similar to "Green Dey")
