((I do not own Zim, I never have, and I never will)
He did it; the son of a bitch did it. It's gone. Everything I have known. Everything I have seen and most of all everything I have ever loved. It is gone, destroyed.
It is weird, a billion plus people against one Irken. It would seem like we would win automatically, wouldn't it? But no, he may have been an idiot at the beginning but then he stopped trying to hide himself and he just stayed in his house, plotting, planning.
I guess the announcer was right "The man that without this world would fall into complete chaos," Professor Membrane. They were right, that was all he had to do.
Dib tried to warn us all but no one believed him. I guess I believed him, but most people don't trust the person in the Insane Asylum, strange, right? Well it wasn't that I believed everything he said about Zim but it did turn out Dib was right, on the main points that is.
Well, at least I can consider myself lucky. I am alive. There are so many people out there that didn't make it. Who knows what happened to Dib and Gaz. They have been put through so much. First losing their father and now losing their planet.
I guess now all of those people are regretting each and every crude comment. Every face or just anything mean they said to Dib. He was always right and I guess that was the downfall of the Human race, not believing this one boy.
It is sad. We all could have been saved. These people, including me, wouldn't be on this shipped to face our new life being in the control of the Irken race.
There aren't a lot of things left for us humans, well, things that would be considered humane, but I guess the Irkens will cover that idea. There are really two things we can become at this point, a slave or a scientific test subject.
For those who have escaped, they can either live on the borders of society surviving off scraps or, at this point of time seeming like a better way to go, being dead.
None of these options seem great and which one is in store for me I have no idea, but none of them seem pleasant.
Why us. Why? I miss the sky. I miss that fact of being isolated from the rest of the universe. Why did that have to end?
"HEY! YOU! Seat 1-5B" An Irken security guard screamed. "What are you writing, A distress signal? TELL ME!!"
"I am just writing in my diary, Sir." Tar said holding her journal to her chest so the security guard couldn't take it. As she did so Tar realized how pitiful of an attempt this truly was, for if the Irken guard wanted the journal he could just take it. So she didn't understand why she still wrapped her arms around the book tightly, there seemed to be no logical point.
The guard glared at Tar but then continued his rounds to check the rest of the prisoners. When the guard was farther down Tar opened her Diary again and began to finish what she was writing.
'There is nothing to do in this ship. It seems like we are going off to war. We are riding in the back of a ship, sitting on benches on the wall. Of course we are tied to the seats. More of like locked. Let's just say I am sitting in car seat from Hell. I can't help but think about what will happen to me. We are living in a war and truthfully, I have no idea where to go. I wonder where Dib is…'
Tar closed her diary and tried to get some sleep, even though her seating position made it close to impossible, she somehow was able to manage and in a few minutes after closing her eyes she was truly asleep.
((A/N So around three years ago I wrote this story but I eventually took it off, but while searching through Word a few days ago I found it save and I thought "Maybe I should put it back up," So here I am, three years later, rewriting a story that always seemed to challenge me. Now, I doubt it, but if there are any of you out there who read the original I beg you to review. For everyone else, I would love for you to review. That is why I do this, so I can get feedback so I know how to improve in the future. So, review and this story will continue, for why challenge myself if there is no reward?
So, until the next possible chapter,
-Sar, the optimistic pessimist