Zelos POV
Where... am I?
White... It's so soft and warm... but it doesn't feel good. It's like sticky heat, and searing light...
...It's so bright...
I wonder... Should it feel so light... when... you die...?
Because I know there's no way I'm in heaven. I know there's no way I could possibly die happy.
I... I thought it'd be so easy.
I can't believe how hard it was for me to let go, to turn around and tell them that they'd been fools all along, fools to have trusted me. Fools to have thought of me as a friend.
Then again.. had they ever really thought of me as a friend? Lloyd... he'd asked me, could he trust me?
Somehow, it'd taken all I had to put on that smile and tell him yes...
Masks, they're all I wear. All the time.
You wouldn't believe how... lonely I was, inside. All alone. Hidden.
It'd always been the same, always another day, waking up to hate myself, hate where I was, who I was.
But... when Lloyd and them had shown up, and I'd joined them... It was almost enough to change how I felt. Almost.
When I had to turn away... It hurt.
It hurt so much, it was so hard...
...Do they know? Do they know how much I despised myself? Can they still feel sorry for...
No, of course not. In the end, I kept them to that decision, to that ideal.
To that illusion.
No regrets, huh? I suppose a part of me has always wanted to die...
I never really managed to understand, but I just did.
I only hated myself more as I tried to bury away into fake luxury, pretending I wanted, I needed nothing.
All along, I needed so much... so much that no one could give...
Seles... I wonder how she'll do.
I hope she can be happy... she still has a future, she still has dreams, she still has a reason to live.
Not like me. I'm nothing.
Not even the betrayal and Cruxis... none of it seems to change anything.
Being an angel...
I'm not. I'm not an angel.
These wings of mine... They're so fake.
Look at them. Can I even fly? I can't do anything with these wings. They don't change anything. Nothing outside, nothing inside.
They're... they're so transparent. Not even solid.
Heh. In fact, they could just be another illusion. Wouldn't that just work out fine? Fake wings for a fake creature, pretending to be someone.
Chosen... what a lame title. There is no glory, no pride, no honor. Nothing.
There's nothing to me, nothing at all.
These wings of mine... they're made of glass.
Glass, that makes you want to look in it, hoping to be what you want to be. Hoping to be what you can never be. Looking so hard that you forget your common sense, that you lose yourself so far into your dreams, you really think you might be just that.
Glass is... so fragile. You touch it, and it will break.
It'll shatter. It'll shatter into a million pieces, so weak, so pathetic. Every last piece of you, impossible to put back together.
And you'll stare down into it and see in those reflections what you've wanted to be, and you try and pretend that it's real...
But the glass is so sharp and bright, and it'll cut you, over and over and over... It hurts so much.
Angel... I'm not an angel.
There are no angels. At least, none with glass wings. Colette, Kratos... they... they're real. They're angels. It fits them. They aren't liars.
I'm not an angel. I could never be enough to fill those wings.
And right now... Everything just hurts. It just hurts so much, everything shattering before me...
This is more like it. This is more like death, like hell, like pain...
I'm just made out of masks and lies and glass, aren't I? I always was, all along.
Fake... everything I am...
But...
I... I had had dreams before, I had had hopes...
I'd tried, and I'd failed...
I...I'm sorry.
I never wanted to be an angel...