I needed to do something for Ulquiorra's birthday and it was nagging at me forever until I came up with this last night. It is now after my bed time, (it's five minutes to midnight) but I had to finish this. So I suppose it is sort of OOC but not really seeing as we don't know what happened to our favourite Espada, alright, MY favourite Espada. Well please read and review.

Happy Birthday

~Today is my birthday, or some would say~

They brought time to our world and with it rituals. When an Arrancar was created, or discovered, that day became known as their birthday, we were to celebrate them. Many times there was cake, presents, a party, many enjoyed their day of leisure, and were enthusiastic about birthdays. I on the other hand, was not. Celebrating what was merely another day, was a squander of time and resources, we had a war to prepare for.

~If I were alive, what would I do today?~

Both humans and Shinigami count time, with clocks, calendars, planners, and other intricate devices. Some count down the time until something happens, some count up from when something began. Birthdays were strange because they were counted both ways, how long it was until your birthday and how old you were. But you only counted if you looked forward to it, if you were to have a party and were delighted to being older. I had not been counting, I just recognized the date and realized what it marked. Were I alive would I have counted?

~Is it your birthday if you are not even alive?~

I was dead once before, we had celebrated the birthdays of the dead then. It did not matter whose birthday it was, it was always celebrated. Mine was not, is that the reason I ponder this with profound contemplation, I suppose it does not matter seeing I have nothing better to do. By the time my first birthday came around we were already at war, we had lost our own kin. We all had plentiful work to do before the enemy was expected to invade our home; find new Arrancar to join the ranks, keep the place sanitary, and practice fighting technique, I had the woman to attend to. There was no time for something insignificant, at the time I was indifferent.

~How many times have I died now, five?~

At first I was human, no that is not quite correct. Once, I was a living being in the World of the Living, my first demise was there. Next I was consumed before I became a Gillian alongside hundreds of other souls. From there I would have evolved into an Adjuchas and after some time, a Vasto Lorde, even that I cannot grasp memories of, for it evades my mind. Again when my spirit body was divided into two parts, for a moment the Hogyoku obliterated me completely, before bringing me back, cracking my mask, reforming me, my memory being wiped clean, my senses heightened, the old me was dead, I resembled a human once again. It would appear I only died four times, I cannot escape that number that was entitled to me. The octava once concluded that should an artificial Arrancar, such as myself, die we would not reincarnate, we would simply be erased. He was right.

~The world continues on and I watch though my ashes~

The ash that was once my body is scattered across the worlds, it is so insignificant it is never noticed. Wherever my ash is I can observe, if it is on someone I can watch what they do and I can hear what they say. When it is just on the ground I can only see from it, as if I'm capable of looking in a three foot radius all around. It is like being split into trillions of miniature pieces, scattered across multiple universes. My conscious is everywhere at once. I suppose I am more all seeing than I was when I had my eyes, for I am no longer noticed at all and yet I observe trillions of information a second. My ash is carried from one place to another by Hollow, Shinigami, humans, and animals, most of the time it is the wind that carries me. Nothing I observe proves interesting to me, and with no purpose for observing what is the point other than that I cannot stop? It does not matter for it would appear not retaining a physical brain means I cannot remember what I have witnessed long at all.

~As others live and die, have peace and have clashes~

Hundreds pass on every second but I cannot bring myself to care. Why should I care, it is natural, millions expire every day. Many might have a tragic tale or two, a suicide, homicide, rape, accident. They are not alone; there is no eternal end for them, even if they do not know it. They are not in pain, even when they die again it is not the end. They are ordinary, they will reincarnate, a natural ability that has been snatched away from me. There should be a dozen others like me, artificial Arrancar who were slaughtered, where are they, are they like me and I'm just not aware or were they destined for something else after their second deaths. Am I the only one being tormented like this? I suppose I am not suffering for it brings relief as well. There is no pain and there never has been, but day after day my memories are stripped from me, but there is relief in that something is altering over time. I do not pity myself, although I cannot help speculating what will happen once I completely forget. In many ways I have become trash since my untimely demise. I find myself hoping, when there is no hope, to have not died. I hope for someone to save me, or at least tell me what is to come, I do not appreciate not knowing but mayhap it is better this way. This is what I have become.

But mere ashes in the wind

Perhaps it was because I sinned

It could be that I lack a heart

At least I now understand the one named Stark

To be alone

Without a home

Wandering and wasting away

Except I am not because my ashes lay

There is nothing to do, but wait, ponder, and see

It is hard to believe I'd only be three

So happy birthday to me

Do I regret my existence, my being?

A nihilist who only believes what his eyes are seeing?

Being half dead was better than this

Even if I was continuously bored and never received my first kiss

Was I erroneous to believe that it didn't exist?

The heart, whose meaning I could not grasp in my fist?

I was a pawn, a being lacking purpose

There really was nothing beneath the surface

I followed his every command, to the death

And yes, now I suppose I regret

If I were alive

And still had my precious eyes

I think I would cry

There is no pain, rather there's nothing

I am waiting, hoping, for anything

This cannot go on eternally, can it?

I am forgetting bit by bit

It has to be soon

Maybe this time, next year, come noon?

When I'll have been dead longer than alive

Perhaps my soul will return to the hive

To the place where souls go to reincarnate into trash

I could become a toddler, young, weak, innocent, brash

Someone, in the dark world, is kneeling over what was once me

They look grief stricken and familiar, who is he?

"Happy Birthday, Ulquiorra, wish you were here"

Then he stands and turns, just as I feared

Wait! Stop can't you see!

I'm still here right beside your left knee!

The day is almost over and gone is he

Oh well, happy birthday to me

I will continue to suffer

My indifference façade no longer an antiquate buffer

I regret, I pity, I cry

I'd fight, scream, and lie

To be free from this curse that I call Hell

I curse the day that I fell

I cannot scream, there is no sound

I cannot be seen nor can I be found

How can people celebrate

When it leads closer to that unmarked death gate

Help me! Save me!

Why, why, why!

Is this all because of that lie?

Let me die, if that's what it takes let me die

Snuff my silent cries

I am the trash

I am broken at last

Now I see

I shall never be free

So happy birthday to me