. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It's the first day of summer. Trapped in the confines of this tall building, it's impossible to tell. I did this to myself really.

I think.

I don't remember when I became a detective and I couldn't tell you if it was even my own choice.

It probably wasn't.

Anyway, I've been molded strategically—I don't know by whom—to have a strong sense of justice and duty. I must protect everyone, good and bad, because that is what is right. It is a blind justice.

But I am not blind.

So I cannot be justice.

I know all this, yet I still act the way I do. And I am weird. I could no longer even blend into society if I wanted to. I wonder if this was created for me as well, so that I couldn't escape myself and what they wanted me to become. I apologize, because I can't even tell you who this "they" is.

I've been told that I am a genius. Maybe I am. I don't know.

I don't think I am.

I don't even know who I really am. How could I be a genius if all I know is how to solve crimes from which I remain entirely detached?

Looking at the beauty that I have chained myself to, for the sake of solving the strangest case yet, it has become so clear that I am not fit to be classified the way I have been. Why?

He's beautiful. He is funny and intelligent; he gets along with everyone. And even though he literally is chained to the likes of me, he still has made friends and he still shines.

I said before: I am not blind.

I have never attached myself to the crimes I solve, but I have literally attached myself to this new one.

I am not justice. I am a pretense.

Why am I even doing this? Why do I save people that would never give me a chance or would look at me with distaste? Everyone loves "L" because they do not understand that L is a human, just like them.

But then, I guess I am not just like them. But I do have emotions. I do have feelings.

I can't blame them too much for not realizing this, since I myself did not realize it until recently.

Discovering my own emotions wasn't until after I got involved in the Kira case, after I chained myself to the criminal, and after I found myself in love with the criminal.

I understand now why "they" have shaped me to lack emotions and to be the oil in water: it is so that I would be detached and essentially blind to others.

Though the plan succeeded for 25 years, "they" have just failed. Why?

Because I love.

Because I see.

So now that I am not justice, what will "they" do?

"They" will make someone else "me."

But that brings me to my next question, what will I become? Or will I not be allowed to become anything?

Was a designed to lose what I've only just found?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I think he's 25 . . .

This story is a bit different from how I usually roll, but it just came to me when I attempted to write something else. Lo que pasó, pasó.

Next chapter is Light's almost identical musings.

~Aia~

p.s. if you're wondering about Nightmares update, I'll get that as soon as I get my lap top back (too much porn = too many viruses)