Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
Decantation: To Kayla, my friend.
Diaries of a Forgotten Soul
Monday, wet. The air was filled with a hot, wet fog. I sat in my normal seat on the bus, if you could call it that. I had on my normal cloths, if you could call them that. No aspect of my life is normal. I was never normal.
From the day I was born I was a hated, neglected, and abused. I had a small tight knit group of friends, they included me, myself, and I. That was all I had. And, as I thought, all I needed.
My school is the usual High School, big, gray, and ugly. It had a student body of about 14,000. 14,000 and me. To most of the student body I did not even exist. I was a wall, or a shadow. A shadow of someone who was not really there. Of someone who did not want to be there.
I wanted no one, and no one wanted me. I love no one and am loved by no one. I was alone in the world. I had the basics, food, clothing, shelter. But what I did not know was I needed more. I needed love.
In reality the girl, Hilde Marie Shubeiker existed. But to my mind that girl, me, did not exist. My life was wake up, go to school, come home, sleep. I had no being no reason to live. I was one person, one life. Just another face in the crowd. I had no power, no way to change the cores of time and history.
Once, just for laughs, I signed one of my history tests Lucrezia Noin. The next day when the teacher handed out graded papers the test came right back to me. This proved not even the teachers knew my name. I was never called on; to them any seat with me in it was empty.
I don't want other souls to be forgotten. So, I decided to keep this diary, in hopes that some day someone will find it and realize souls are forgotten.
Tuesday, cold. I was told there is a grown-up world in which children cannot understand. So I cannot begin to explain how I came to live in this world. I have a mother, and never knew my father. I see my mother very little. She's usually at a bar somewhere or at one of her friends houses. Not that this is a bad thing... every time she is around all she ever doses is beats me and tells me how ugly I am. I must say the world would be a better place without her. I really think the world would be a better place without me.
I am nothing, just a flesh bag filled with bone, meat, and blood. I have no being, no reason to live. But do you ever think, or realize that at this moment you are looking out of a pair of eyes embedded in a skull. And you are existing as that person. Never knowing if you are affecting the people around you, never knowing if you are real. How do you know when you go to sleep your not really waking up. Waking up in the real world. But how do you know what's real and what's not? How do I know I'm real? This book's real? How do you know your real?
I know not what is real or not, yet I must exist. If not in this world, I must exist some were at sometime. But for now I have no meaning. My one goal in life is too survive. There is .one thing I know is real in every world, not just my own. Pain is real. Pain and death. Death always comes after pain. Death has no mercy; death leaves nothing, nothing but pain. If death had mercy I would be gone. Death has no mercy for me. Death taunts me, toys with me. It gives me pain, but never peace. I live in pain. Waiting the day of my death. The day I find peace, peace in my crypt.
For now I live. Hour to hour, day by day. I am forced to continue this dance, this endless waltz. The three beats of life, death, and pain torment me forever. I can never break the circle. I can never end the dance. I must continue until the day I die, the day I find peace. I am a single soul the world forgot. And I will stay this way until the day I find my peace.
Wednesday, cold. War is upon us. I can feel it. Everyday the war grows closer. The fighting, the hatred, the DEATH. Death takes the life of people who would rather live, and leaves those of us who would rather die. Some that derisive life die and some that deserve death live.
In a world with no hope I am often alone. I see, I hear, but I do not feel. When I do feel I feel lonely. I feel like the whole world in beating down apron me and then I give up on the world. I go someplace where I can sit and think without the day passing me by in a mad rush. People are like that, knowing that if they would just stop and say hello that would be one less lonely person in this world. But they never stop, they never smile. They just go on with their lives as thoe nothing was the matter. But do they realize the pain? The pain they are causing others? The pain that could be stopped? People do not think about it but souls are forgotten. People are forgotten. Lonely people.
Thursday, freezing. Why do people hate the forgotten one's? Do they not realize the pain? Do they not realize the sorrow? At least they notice us. But they never notice me. I am the one they all forget. My black hair blends with the color the walls of our school are panted. I where black almost everyday. I love black. Black loves me, black means free from color. I am that I am free from color, free form all things the define life. I look inside myself and see my heart is black. Black is me. For it is nothing and I am nothing. We are the same. The black. Black is the void, I am the void, we are all but one.
Friday, stormy. The sky is a stormy gray with steaks of black. I makes other unhappy to see this sky, but it makes me glad to see this unhappy sky, the sky matches my mood. I love the sky, because I know somewhere bendy the sky is space, space has endless depths. I heard a song today, I think it drecribes me, I will put a copy of its lines in this book...
I see a red door and I want it panited black no colors anymore, I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes I see a line of cars and they are panited balck with flowers and my love both never to come back I see people turn their heads and quickly look away Like a new born baby it just happens every day I look inside myself and see my heart is black I see my red door and it's heading into black maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts it's not easy facing up when your whole world is black I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby, baby.
Saturday, I have no idea what it's like today. But I know what my heart is like today. Just as it is everyday, dark, deslent, cold, and empty. I am no one, I have no one. I am just Hilde. Just... just Hilde. No other. I wish I were someone eles. Someone who could make a difference, I wish I could be someone, not just Hilde. But these dreams are forgotten. Sometimes in the darkness of the night I pine for a reason to exist, but I can find none. I have no other family that I know of, so I have no reason to live. I am but one. One soul, one life, no reason.
Sunday, first nice day in a long time, I hate it. I hate the sun. The sun is happiness, I am not. I sit in my room till all the church serves are over, I never go to church. I don't belive in God. If there was a God I would not be hear. When I was little I believed in god, I thought he was some universal force that would someday bring me a father, or a true mother, or maybe even love. But he never did and slowly my belief faded. I know of one other person who doses not believe in God. This person is Duo Maxwell. He is my age; he has brown hair, and purple eyes. He has never seen me, he has seen through me, but has never seen me. I like him, he does not like me. I know him, he dose not know me. He shares my one passion, to fix things, build things. I have one other love, writing. I love no one, but I do love some things... hear is an example....
Two blue pools, cold and deep, hold me now so I may sleep. A silky forest, soft to touch, what about it do I love so much? Green and black, over supple skin, then you disappear again. How can you be near, if you are away from hear? In the night I hear you cry, for a love that can not die. I'll tell no one, of what I see, if you stay hear with me. A gentle river, flowing fast, With you I am at peace at last.
Decantation: To Kayla, my friend.
Diaries of a Forgotten Soul
Monday, wet. The air was filled with a hot, wet fog. I sat in my normal seat on the bus, if you could call it that. I had on my normal cloths, if you could call them that. No aspect of my life is normal. I was never normal.
From the day I was born I was a hated, neglected, and abused. I had a small tight knit group of friends, they included me, myself, and I. That was all I had. And, as I thought, all I needed.
My school is the usual High School, big, gray, and ugly. It had a student body of about 14,000. 14,000 and me. To most of the student body I did not even exist. I was a wall, or a shadow. A shadow of someone who was not really there. Of someone who did not want to be there.
I wanted no one, and no one wanted me. I love no one and am loved by no one. I was alone in the world. I had the basics, food, clothing, shelter. But what I did not know was I needed more. I needed love.
In reality the girl, Hilde Marie Shubeiker existed. But to my mind that girl, me, did not exist. My life was wake up, go to school, come home, sleep. I had no being no reason to live. I was one person, one life. Just another face in the crowd. I had no power, no way to change the cores of time and history.
Once, just for laughs, I signed one of my history tests Lucrezia Noin. The next day when the teacher handed out graded papers the test came right back to me. This proved not even the teachers knew my name. I was never called on; to them any seat with me in it was empty.
I don't want other souls to be forgotten. So, I decided to keep this diary, in hopes that some day someone will find it and realize souls are forgotten.
Tuesday, cold. I was told there is a grown-up world in which children cannot understand. So I cannot begin to explain how I came to live in this world. I have a mother, and never knew my father. I see my mother very little. She's usually at a bar somewhere or at one of her friends houses. Not that this is a bad thing... every time she is around all she ever doses is beats me and tells me how ugly I am. I must say the world would be a better place without her. I really think the world would be a better place without me.
I am nothing, just a flesh bag filled with bone, meat, and blood. I have no being, no reason to live. But do you ever think, or realize that at this moment you are looking out of a pair of eyes embedded in a skull. And you are existing as that person. Never knowing if you are affecting the people around you, never knowing if you are real. How do you know when you go to sleep your not really waking up. Waking up in the real world. But how do you know what's real and what's not? How do I know I'm real? This book's real? How do you know your real?
I know not what is real or not, yet I must exist. If not in this world, I must exist some were at sometime. But for now I have no meaning. My one goal in life is too survive. There is .one thing I know is real in every world, not just my own. Pain is real. Pain and death. Death always comes after pain. Death has no mercy; death leaves nothing, nothing but pain. If death had mercy I would be gone. Death has no mercy for me. Death taunts me, toys with me. It gives me pain, but never peace. I live in pain. Waiting the day of my death. The day I find peace, peace in my crypt.
For now I live. Hour to hour, day by day. I am forced to continue this dance, this endless waltz. The three beats of life, death, and pain torment me forever. I can never break the circle. I can never end the dance. I must continue until the day I die, the day I find peace. I am a single soul the world forgot. And I will stay this way until the day I find my peace.
Wednesday, cold. War is upon us. I can feel it. Everyday the war grows closer. The fighting, the hatred, the DEATH. Death takes the life of people who would rather live, and leaves those of us who would rather die. Some that derisive life die and some that deserve death live.
In a world with no hope I am often alone. I see, I hear, but I do not feel. When I do feel I feel lonely. I feel like the whole world in beating down apron me and then I give up on the world. I go someplace where I can sit and think without the day passing me by in a mad rush. People are like that, knowing that if they would just stop and say hello that would be one less lonely person in this world. But they never stop, they never smile. They just go on with their lives as thoe nothing was the matter. But do they realize the pain? The pain they are causing others? The pain that could be stopped? People do not think about it but souls are forgotten. People are forgotten. Lonely people.
Thursday, freezing. Why do people hate the forgotten one's? Do they not realize the pain? Do they not realize the sorrow? At least they notice us. But they never notice me. I am the one they all forget. My black hair blends with the color the walls of our school are panted. I where black almost everyday. I love black. Black loves me, black means free from color. I am that I am free from color, free form all things the define life. I look inside myself and see my heart is black. Black is me. For it is nothing and I am nothing. We are the same. The black. Black is the void, I am the void, we are all but one.
Friday, stormy. The sky is a stormy gray with steaks of black. I makes other unhappy to see this sky, but it makes me glad to see this unhappy sky, the sky matches my mood. I love the sky, because I know somewhere bendy the sky is space, space has endless depths. I heard a song today, I think it drecribes me, I will put a copy of its lines in this book...
I see a red door and I want it panited black no colors anymore, I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes I see a line of cars and they are panited balck with flowers and my love both never to come back I see people turn their heads and quickly look away Like a new born baby it just happens every day I look inside myself and see my heart is black I see my red door and it's heading into black maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts it's not easy facing up when your whole world is black I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby, baby.
Saturday, I have no idea what it's like today. But I know what my heart is like today. Just as it is everyday, dark, deslent, cold, and empty. I am no one, I have no one. I am just Hilde. Just... just Hilde. No other. I wish I were someone eles. Someone who could make a difference, I wish I could be someone, not just Hilde. But these dreams are forgotten. Sometimes in the darkness of the night I pine for a reason to exist, but I can find none. I have no other family that I know of, so I have no reason to live. I am but one. One soul, one life, no reason.
Sunday, first nice day in a long time, I hate it. I hate the sun. The sun is happiness, I am not. I sit in my room till all the church serves are over, I never go to church. I don't belive in God. If there was a God I would not be hear. When I was little I believed in god, I thought he was some universal force that would someday bring me a father, or a true mother, or maybe even love. But he never did and slowly my belief faded. I know of one other person who doses not believe in God. This person is Duo Maxwell. He is my age; he has brown hair, and purple eyes. He has never seen me, he has seen through me, but has never seen me. I like him, he does not like me. I know him, he dose not know me. He shares my one passion, to fix things, build things. I have one other love, writing. I love no one, but I do love some things... hear is an example....
Two blue pools, cold and deep, hold me now so I may sleep. A silky forest, soft to touch, what about it do I love so much? Green and black, over supple skin, then you disappear again. How can you be near, if you are away from hear? In the night I hear you cry, for a love that can not die. I'll tell no one, of what I see, if you stay hear with me. A gentle river, flowing fast, With you I am at peace at last.