YAY! This was runner up for Best Takari is I Am Canadian's fic contest! Thank you!
It's actually not all that long, and the summary explains it. I was sad b/c my friends were being buttholes so I decided to write this one night when I had nothing to do.
Digimon does not belong to me, only the story.
I postponed my other stories just to write this one. I don't exactly know why. It came to me as a far away dream, and an opportunity to pour out my thoughts and feelings. It has been a pleasure to write "The Love of Life."
Originally, this was not a Digimon story, but no one was reviewing it, and I thought it would make a good Digimon story. Kari does not have blue eyes, I'm pretty sure of that, but it says Bluish-brown, so I just wanted to point that out.
The Love of Life
The sky was blue. Not just any ordinary blue. Blue, like the water of the ocean, and the color of her bluish-brownish eyes. She stepped out of the building and onto the front steps. The wind ruffled her dark brown hair as she looked around. The schoolyard was almost empty.
The warmth and comfort of home seemed millions of miles away at the moment. She decided to head towards the library. There was not much to do, but she forced herself to do her homework for tomorrow just to keep her mind off things. Instead, there she sat, tapping her pencil lightly, trying to concentrate, and all the while thinking of that day's events.
Why couldn't she blend in with the other girls at school? Surely she had her differences, but it should be SO hard. She had her friends, but it was no use. She slumped down in her chair and looked around.
What she saw broke her heart. A little girl, angry because her friend had given candy to her other friend but not her. How selfish. She tucked her soft hair behind her ears and sat up straight, watching. Why must we all be like this? Why? So selfish and greedy of their own needs-wait, did I say needs? I mean wants-that we never think of anyone but ourselves, and of our friends, either. Surely everything happens for a cause.
The scene disgusted her. Stuffing her homework back into her book bag, she got up and left. Home still seemed far away. Instead, she headed towards the park, the section without the palm trees, where school kids usually hung out after school and old ladies wailed their dogs. Away from the mess and noisiness of life...and into the peace. It was a blessing.
She sat down at the trunk of the tree and took out a sketchbook. It was much better expressing herself in pictures than words. Her mind kept flashing.
Why did people have to be so mean? She scoffed as a popular adage popped into her mind, "Sticks and Stones can break my bones but words can't hurt me." She sighed. Huh. So much for that. Asking why didn't help anymore. No one helped. She shrugged, hugging her knees, curled up under the oak tree, her eyes brimming with tears.
When she had been a little girl and hurt, she would curl up on her bed and cry. But she was a big girl now, and crying never resolves anything. What she would have most wanted next to an explanation was to be able to cry freely again and not to be ashamed of it, to know where she went wrong, and why no one liked her. Well, that was not true, not at all, and she knew it. But for what use? She knew her friends, at least the ones she hung out with, the ones that used her. They wanted her to do this at that...for what purpose? For themselves. Everything they asked her to do was for them. They would alter the pattern of her life course just to receive their needs. Were they really friends? Suddenly, she remembered a time long ago, when she had first met her best friend. She was crying too, for the almost exact purpose. People were talking about her, and she thought she had never felt so alone in her life, so vulnerable and helpless.
Her friend had found her crying at the side of the building and after the story had been ferreted out, the girl had said, "That's not true Kari, and you know it. I like you and I want to be your friend." She smiled, remembering it. Then, as fast as a smile can disappear, her eyes were suddenly clouded again.
But that was ever so long ago. Had her friends all changed? Or was it herself? Sobbing wildly, she confessed she didn't know.
There was a time once when her friends followed her to talk to her, to care to spend time with her. And now? Times HAVE changed since then, and not for the best of things either.
For one, she who used to be in the center of everything, she who was very happy and content with her life was suddenly lonely, and sad. She wondered if her friends card for her any at all. They certainly didn't show it.
She sighed. It seemed so long since she had ever loved life. Digging in her book bag, she presented herself with a picture. Her ninth birthday party. How excited everyone looked. How happy they all were. She turned the picture over. Scrawled on the back were some words: "Today is my ninth birthday. How excited I am! I wonder where I'll be in another four years? I want to live life to its fullest extent." So much for that. She stuck the picture back into her bag.
Then, without warning, she uncontrollably burst out, "Oh, no, don't, how I wish I could be nine again. How I wish I could forget about those dreadful worries and horrors of life itself and just be a little kid again and not have any responsibilities!" She stopped, realizing at once she was becoming no better than the girl at the library.
Sulking was a bad habit. She knew it, but didn't care at the moment. Why should she? She sighed, again. So confused, so unsure of herself. No one understood her. No one understood why she did certain things.
She needed to talk to someone. But who? Who would be patient enough to hear her whole story and yet care about it? Who would be brave enough to say what they actually thought? The lists of names first pouring though her head stopped, and she was left with a certain blankness. Who would tell the truth?
She got up, and walked over to the road that crossed right in the middle of the park. She ran all the way home, tears pouring out of her eyes.
Bamn. The front door slammed shut. Her mother called from the kitchen.
"And she told you to meet them in the park." The sound of the washer was on. Her mother must have been doing laundry. Her voice grew louder as she approached with a load of blankets. "You can go, but be back before dinner, all right?" She paused as she got a glimpse of her daughter's face. "What's is up with-" But Kari was already out the door.
Park. Everything was held at the park. Why hadn't she seen them? Why hadn't she known about this sooner? She wiped her face with her sleeve and ran to the park. But images kept coming back. Why couldn't she stop? She needed it to stop. She thought about her friends. Would they notice anything wrong?
In her rush of painful thoughts, she ran right past them. When they called to her, she slowly made her way back, hoping none of them would make a curt reply to her. None of them did. Instead they hardly seemed themselves at all, giving each other puzzled looks. She couldn't understand the cryptic code at all.
Was it really as bad as this? The fact that they could no longer tell each other their problems or even understand each other. She remembered a time when she had spent a day mustering the courage to speak to one of them about her problems and they had laughed.
Finally, a girl spoke in the dreadful silence.
"Kari, what's wrong?" She asked.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't seem yourself today."
What is myself, the show I put on to satisfy my friends or my originally thoughts? She-
"Nothing." She said. "Nothing's wrong." They turned around from me to talk among themselves.
It has come to this. We, best of friends, have had our likes and differences, but now we can no longer even understand each other. Silence is no longer grand, it is dreadful and trepidations me. We have all changed since so long ago. Why? No one can answer that. Many questions often raised do not have answers. But as long as my heart continues to seek for the life it deserves, I will ponder over and over, one word: Why. Why has this ever happened? What went wrong, and why aren't we still the best of friends?
Why don't you, along with the rest of the world, love me anymore?
And amazingly, as you look on comparison to the rest of my stories, this one isn't throughly based on dialouges.
P.S. I'm not mad at anyone anymore.
It's actually not all that long, and the summary explains it. I was sad b/c my friends were being buttholes so I decided to write this one night when I had nothing to do.
Digimon does not belong to me, only the story.
I postponed my other stories just to write this one. I don't exactly know why. It came to me as a far away dream, and an opportunity to pour out my thoughts and feelings. It has been a pleasure to write "The Love of Life."
Originally, this was not a Digimon story, but no one was reviewing it, and I thought it would make a good Digimon story. Kari does not have blue eyes, I'm pretty sure of that, but it says Bluish-brown, so I just wanted to point that out.
The Love of Life
The sky was blue. Not just any ordinary blue. Blue, like the water of the ocean, and the color of her bluish-brownish eyes. She stepped out of the building and onto the front steps. The wind ruffled her dark brown hair as she looked around. The schoolyard was almost empty.
The warmth and comfort of home seemed millions of miles away at the moment. She decided to head towards the library. There was not much to do, but she forced herself to do her homework for tomorrow just to keep her mind off things. Instead, there she sat, tapping her pencil lightly, trying to concentrate, and all the while thinking of that day's events.
Why couldn't she blend in with the other girls at school? Surely she had her differences, but it should be SO hard. She had her friends, but it was no use. She slumped down in her chair and looked around.
What she saw broke her heart. A little girl, angry because her friend had given candy to her other friend but not her. How selfish. She tucked her soft hair behind her ears and sat up straight, watching. Why must we all be like this? Why? So selfish and greedy of their own needs-wait, did I say needs? I mean wants-that we never think of anyone but ourselves, and of our friends, either. Surely everything happens for a cause.
The scene disgusted her. Stuffing her homework back into her book bag, she got up and left. Home still seemed far away. Instead, she headed towards the park, the section without the palm trees, where school kids usually hung out after school and old ladies wailed their dogs. Away from the mess and noisiness of life...and into the peace. It was a blessing.
She sat down at the trunk of the tree and took out a sketchbook. It was much better expressing herself in pictures than words. Her mind kept flashing.
Why did people have to be so mean? She scoffed as a popular adage popped into her mind, "Sticks and Stones can break my bones but words can't hurt me." She sighed. Huh. So much for that. Asking why didn't help anymore. No one helped. She shrugged, hugging her knees, curled up under the oak tree, her eyes brimming with tears.
When she had been a little girl and hurt, she would curl up on her bed and cry. But she was a big girl now, and crying never resolves anything. What she would have most wanted next to an explanation was to be able to cry freely again and not to be ashamed of it, to know where she went wrong, and why no one liked her. Well, that was not true, not at all, and she knew it. But for what use? She knew her friends, at least the ones she hung out with, the ones that used her. They wanted her to do this at that...for what purpose? For themselves. Everything they asked her to do was for them. They would alter the pattern of her life course just to receive their needs. Were they really friends? Suddenly, she remembered a time long ago, when she had first met her best friend. She was crying too, for the almost exact purpose. People were talking about her, and she thought she had never felt so alone in her life, so vulnerable and helpless.
Her friend had found her crying at the side of the building and after the story had been ferreted out, the girl had said, "That's not true Kari, and you know it. I like you and I want to be your friend." She smiled, remembering it. Then, as fast as a smile can disappear, her eyes were suddenly clouded again.
But that was ever so long ago. Had her friends all changed? Or was it herself? Sobbing wildly, she confessed she didn't know.
There was a time once when her friends followed her to talk to her, to care to spend time with her. And now? Times HAVE changed since then, and not for the best of things either.
For one, she who used to be in the center of everything, she who was very happy and content with her life was suddenly lonely, and sad. She wondered if her friends card for her any at all. They certainly didn't show it.
She sighed. It seemed so long since she had ever loved life. Digging in her book bag, she presented herself with a picture. Her ninth birthday party. How excited everyone looked. How happy they all were. She turned the picture over. Scrawled on the back were some words: "Today is my ninth birthday. How excited I am! I wonder where I'll be in another four years? I want to live life to its fullest extent." So much for that. She stuck the picture back into her bag.
Then, without warning, she uncontrollably burst out, "Oh, no, don't, how I wish I could be nine again. How I wish I could forget about those dreadful worries and horrors of life itself and just be a little kid again and not have any responsibilities!" She stopped, realizing at once she was becoming no better than the girl at the library.
Sulking was a bad habit. She knew it, but didn't care at the moment. Why should she? She sighed, again. So confused, so unsure of herself. No one understood her. No one understood why she did certain things.
She needed to talk to someone. But who? Who would be patient enough to hear her whole story and yet care about it? Who would be brave enough to say what they actually thought? The lists of names first pouring though her head stopped, and she was left with a certain blankness. Who would tell the truth?
She got up, and walked over to the road that crossed right in the middle of the park. She ran all the way home, tears pouring out of her eyes.
Bamn. The front door slammed shut. Her mother called from the kitchen.
"And she told you to meet them in the park." The sound of the washer was on. Her mother must have been doing laundry. Her voice grew louder as she approached with a load of blankets. "You can go, but be back before dinner, all right?" She paused as she got a glimpse of her daughter's face. "What's is up with-" But Kari was already out the door.
Park. Everything was held at the park. Why hadn't she seen them? Why hadn't she known about this sooner? She wiped her face with her sleeve and ran to the park. But images kept coming back. Why couldn't she stop? She needed it to stop. She thought about her friends. Would they notice anything wrong?
In her rush of painful thoughts, she ran right past them. When they called to her, she slowly made her way back, hoping none of them would make a curt reply to her. None of them did. Instead they hardly seemed themselves at all, giving each other puzzled looks. She couldn't understand the cryptic code at all.
Was it really as bad as this? The fact that they could no longer tell each other their problems or even understand each other. She remembered a time when she had spent a day mustering the courage to speak to one of them about her problems and they had laughed.
Finally, a girl spoke in the dreadful silence.
"Kari, what's wrong?" She asked.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't seem yourself today."
What is myself, the show I put on to satisfy my friends or my originally thoughts? She-
"Nothing." She said. "Nothing's wrong." They turned around from me to talk among themselves.
It has come to this. We, best of friends, have had our likes and differences, but now we can no longer even understand each other. Silence is no longer grand, it is dreadful and trepidations me. We have all changed since so long ago. Why? No one can answer that. Many questions often raised do not have answers. But as long as my heart continues to seek for the life it deserves, I will ponder over and over, one word: Why. Why has this ever happened? What went wrong, and why aren't we still the best of friends?
Why don't you, along with the rest of the world, love me anymore?
And amazingly, as you look on comparison to the rest of my stories, this one isn't throughly based on dialouges.
P.S. I'm not mad at anyone anymore.