I imagine that since the beginning of time people have been asking questions about life and death. After the question of 'Why are we here?' is given some kind of acceptable answer, to repeat over and over like a mantra, the following questions just lead to an amazing rabble of answers that juxtapose and contradict each other. It seems that the human body and soul are more complex than anyone still alive could comprehend, even if they had a thousand years to wander around the world.
During the years I have suffered, searching endlessly, I have noticed that humans are very strange entities. In the world of the living, people are so full of emotions. They feel everything profoundly. They laugh, they cry, they hurt... They just feel so much. Every day that goes by they begin to live for these feelings. It seems that they are alive Because of these feelings.
Sometimes I still remember glimpses of my life through the seemingly endless reaches of time I have explored since my death. I used to be like them: Revelling in emotions, relishing the feeling of just being alive like it was an extremely addictive narcotic. Maybe that is why I am still here. It makes me think about the hopeless people in the world who feel that they have nowhere to go... That death is their only answer... Blindly, they throw away everything they have, their greatest gift, convinced that anything that comes after must be better than life. They believe that death will embrace them and gently banish all of their hurt and suffering to oblivion. They have such faith in this belief and it makes me wonder what happened to all the people who took this step. Does it really fade away into a world of blissful stupor and indulgence, where they can be free of their troubles or do are they doomed to interminable years of wandering, as I am? Do they throw away the only chance they had to make things right again, to be haunted by their mistakes and to have their pain stay with them eternally?
How ironic that I am not alive, yet I am still plagued by these impossible questions. What is death? Have I truly ceased to live? Feeling is certainly regarded as proof of life, of existence and there is no doubt that I still feel. Where does that leave me? Will I forever be denied the pleasure of fading away to the next world, made to endure this futile imitation of life and being plagued by my memories?
The living have so must love and trust for their memories. To them they are reminders of what was and permanent things that will live on and endure, no matter what came to pass after the moment. They are gentle remembrances of what was, that can shape and have endless influences on what is and what can be. The living cling to their memories like a childhood toy or their last tangible shred of innocence or sanity. It seems that the dead, if that is the right word, who are memories themselves also will not be separated from them.
It is strange, the things we remember. There are things we swear we will never forget, that slip away into the reaches of time, yet the things we would rather block out of our minds seem to stay with us as clearly as if they just happened. Over the thousand years that I have wandered, it has gradually became harder to recall those precious moments that left me in awe of how good I could actually feel. The elation of winning a game of Blitzball, The sweet closeness of an embrace and those unbearably warm days when you were content to lie around in your underwear under the fan and even if you weren't, you did it anyway because it was too hard to do anything else. These things make me smile, but they are becoming harder and harder to dig up from amongst the fear, the anger, the desperation, the pain. The screams...
I can still hear her scream. A thousand years later and her scream echoes through the deepest regions of my mind. I can still see her standing in my arms, her eyes fearful and glazed with unshed tears. I can still see her body convulse as the bullets ripped into her. I can still see her fall away from me, her hand outstretched, the life draining away. Then there was nothing. I was alone.
Hundreds of thousands of people were killed in that terrible war, at the very least. Men, Women, the elderly or the young, there was no exception. Tension had been rising between Bevelle and my Zanarkand for a long time. Apparently the troubles had begun when I was a baby, but it was during the last years of my life that the wheels of war were set in motion. Bevelle and Zanarkand were the two seats of power in Spira. There are a few other places throughout Spira, but they were mostly small communities, with the exception of Luca, but we didn't really care much about them. I remember the day that the armies were marching out. It was one of those nights where it's still too hot. Lenne and I were sprawled out on my bed, telling jokes and listening to the radio, when it was interrupted by the announcement just when things were 'getting out of hand'. I was worried, of course, but Lenne was visibly shaken. I turned off the radio and assured her that everything would be ok. She soon seemed happy again and we did end up 'getting out of hand', but later that night when we decided to call it a night, she just lay awake for hours. She changed that night.
When she told me she was going to fight in the front lines of Zanarkand's armies, I couldn't just sit back and let her do it. I had done my research about the war and I knew that our Summoners and Battalions would be severely outmatched. I knew that if Lenne left, she would never come home to me. We would never kiss again, laugh together again, make love again, get married and have children. There would be so much we would never experience together, if I let her go. I cared too much to let her die. It's awfully ironic, isn't it?
I wonder often what would have happened if I'd let her follow her heart and stayed put in Zanarkand. She wouldn't have come running when word got to her of my incarceration. She wouldn't have come looking for me when I escaped and tried to use Vegnagun to obliterate the Bevelle armies. She wouldn't have died like that. Maybe she wouldn't have died at all... I recall that Sin was created and decimated Zanarkand, effectively ending the war. Maybe she would never have had to fight at all. There were survivors of the War and the attack of Sin. She would have been safer away from Zanarkand when Sin was born. But what would have happened to me if i had stayed in Zanarkand? Would I have lived? Would Lenne have been left to live out her life in pain?
Love...
Another emotion felt in great amounts by the living. It is quite possibly the most beautiful thing that ever existed and yet it has become very obvious to me, as an observer and a participant, that it is the most painful thing in the world. It causes so much hurting and death. People in the war died for the people they love, people died for the love of their realm. Later, Summoners died for the world and in turn Guardians died for their Summoners. The crusaders died in attempts to beat Sin. Lenne died because I loved her... Maybe she died because she loved me back?
I wish I could have saved us, or at least given her another chance at living. She meant more than anyone else could ever possibly mean to me. I was careless and she died because of me. I failed her in the most ultimate way it was possible. Lenne was my entire world, my soul, my light and I let her down. I let her die. It's because of me that all of that talent, that kindness and beauty left the world.
But all that doesn't matter now. All the pain that ever existed will soon be gone. It makes me sick how people are still fighting, still making pathetic excuses and still dying. There is so much waste, so many people failing the people they love, still blinded by the idiocy of war and power. I will end it. It must be ended. Vegnagun is now within my reach. I will use the Praetor Baralai to do it. He is strong, but his unhappiness will break him. His pain will end too and it will not matter that I failed. All the pain and war will be vanquished. Then, maybe, we can be together again... Maybe we can just fade away together and forget that we were ever sad...
Lenne... I'm sorry. I hope you know that I love you.
The end is near.
So very close now...