Random thoughts, feelings
Disclaimers: Weißkreuz and it's characters don't belong to me, nope, 'd have liked that though...
(***)
Nonchalance, that's as good a word for him as it is bad.
It's just that he doesn't care anymore about much of anything when he looks out of the window. This world holds nothing for him, nothing to love nor to hate. Life is filled with fleeing emotions and impressions he doesn't understand, doesn't want to understand and can't take hold of.
So frail, he is so frail you can imagine to see his bones through his unhealthily pale skin when light falls upon him. A marble statue, no, a porcelain doll with a child's body, an adult's face and a dead man's heart, that's what he is.
Strong, weak, but above all, dead.
In a flash of light, flying debris and screams, his life has been buried when everything was stripped from him. His sanity he lost shortly after, among things, in all the beating, the spitting, the humiliation, pain of molestation. Until one day, he blew it all up and never had problems again.
Tokyo, he despises it when he looks at it now, simply for the fact that it destroys everything and everyone in reach and makes them think that they are living!
He can't, and has never understood those who can't see it as if they were seeing but oblivious of the sunlight. Or the shadows it causes.
They know better, the only ones who see it as it is.
If only he knew...
... what purpose there is for him or anything to continue existing, acting as if they liked it.
He has been renewed after that strange explosion that killed everyone except him and amazed the police and the media. But then, their lucky survivor of the disaster disappeared when they came. Restored him, in a sense. Taught, used, polished, perfected, like the beautiful doll he is and should be, so much beauty. Made so that people may look at him, touch him, make him do things, a perfect marionette, a marionette of china.
Living but not living.
He thought he might actually come to liking it.
Because porcelain dolls don't have hearts.
Author's notes: like always, nothing special. R&R please? I don't expect such things any longer but hope anyway. Thanks.
Disclaimers: Weißkreuz and it's characters don't belong to me, nope, 'd have liked that though...
(***)
Nonchalance, that's as good a word for him as it is bad.
It's just that he doesn't care anymore about much of anything when he looks out of the window. This world holds nothing for him, nothing to love nor to hate. Life is filled with fleeing emotions and impressions he doesn't understand, doesn't want to understand and can't take hold of.
So frail, he is so frail you can imagine to see his bones through his unhealthily pale skin when light falls upon him. A marble statue, no, a porcelain doll with a child's body, an adult's face and a dead man's heart, that's what he is.
Strong, weak, but above all, dead.
In a flash of light, flying debris and screams, his life has been buried when everything was stripped from him. His sanity he lost shortly after, among things, in all the beating, the spitting, the humiliation, pain of molestation. Until one day, he blew it all up and never had problems again.
Tokyo, he despises it when he looks at it now, simply for the fact that it destroys everything and everyone in reach and makes them think that they are living!
He can't, and has never understood those who can't see it as if they were seeing but oblivious of the sunlight. Or the shadows it causes.
They know better, the only ones who see it as it is.
If only he knew...
... what purpose there is for him or anything to continue existing, acting as if they liked it.
He has been renewed after that strange explosion that killed everyone except him and amazed the police and the media. But then, their lucky survivor of the disaster disappeared when they came. Restored him, in a sense. Taught, used, polished, perfected, like the beautiful doll he is and should be, so much beauty. Made so that people may look at him, touch him, make him do things, a perfect marionette, a marionette of china.
Living but not living.
He thought he might actually come to liking it.
Because porcelain dolls don't have hearts.
Author's notes: like always, nothing special. R&R please? I don't expect such things any longer but hope anyway. Thanks.