Author's Notes
I don't Gundam Wing, but I can always dream, right?
This is a collection of diary entries made by Relena. I wanted to try and do something from the normal prose, because it's a different style everyday, until I find one I like! Oh, and the title will explain itself soon enough, so have fun!
Photograph
Chapter 1: I Still Dream About You
Dear Diary,
I'm not happy. I smiled as the cameras flashed. I waved as the people passed me by. However, it wasn't too long before I realized that I was doing it again. I was—what had my professor called it—zoning out. It wasn't too hard to see that this would get me nowhere, as I finally reached my desk this evening. And as I pulled you out, sighing deeply like I did when I wanted to disdain, something fell out. It was like you were actually talking to me. I reached for it, and discovered a photograph that I had—borrowed—from my brother Miliardo. I used to stare at this photograph for hours. It was the only one I had of the mysterious boy who had fallen into my perfect world and dragged me into reality with him. He and I seemed destined for one another for so long.
Even now as I write this, I can still remember him, his name, and who he was to me. Granted that wasn't his real name, but Heero would always somehow manage to be there, ready to kill me. Not that I wanted to die! It was just so soothing to be in his presence.
Oh, I zoned out again, didn't I? I decided long ago that that part of my life was done. In fact, as an aunt I've had plenty to deal with, without troubles of the past. My little nephew is adorable, and I'll never let him go.
Work was a hassle, as usual today. I didn't know whether or not to storm out of the meetings those men made me endure. Honestly, it's as if they've forgotten who I am. I am Relena, and I am not some weak little girl that can't handle the job I've been assigned. I guess after the war officially died down, other than a pretty face, the others seem to think I can't handle my work. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to show them that I am a force to be reckoned with.
Maybe I'll take a break, and go looking again, for old time's sake. He's been gone for twenty years, and it'd be nice if he'd at least say hello. I can only imagine where Heero has gone. I don't even know where to start. Maybe I could speak with the other pilots. Maybe they've heard from him. I would ask Miliardo but he's too busy to begin with. He doesn't need me asking about his once arch nemesis.
That's it. After the elections, I'll take a vacation—granted it's been ages—and I'll go looking for Heero. I'm sure the paparazzi will love this story, but at this particular moment I could care less. The boy in my photograph is worth more than some stupid government position.
Sincerely,
Relena