Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and its affiliates belong to the brilliant Naoko
Takeuchi, who's work I have admired obsessively and loyally. Please don't
sue; I'm only 16.
* Quick note please; the story seems rather grim at first, but if you have not yet left, leave your mark, and the tale will unravel. *
Caught between the pessimism and sadistic philosophies of his time, Mamoru finds his outlook changing ever so slightly with the introduction of a feisty, sweet tempered student. Takes place during the 50's. Below is a teaser. 5-10 reviews are needed for each chapter to be posted; I hate to do this, but there are far to many readers who refuse the author's somewhat pleasant demands for recognition. My ego needs the boost. Thank you all.
Awaken by screaming Of children by night Their fathers have left them Their souls died of fright. Leave to society, The fault is their own. And now, forever more The children are alone.
-Excerpt from my diary
Day to Day
Have you ever felt so, hopeless? As if life isn't worth all the stress and all the work? There is no avoidance of death. All that has been fought for with such valance is disposed unto the next generation. Yet, there are still those who continue the battles; every sunrise is the mark of a new mission- to escape and save the world, or at least the people of the world.
I am neither selfless, nor heroic. To me, each morning brings the dread of consciousness, the irritating gap between sleep. I am not a pessimist, or suicidal. I am a realist. I blink unflinchingly at whatever the universe feels like throwing my way, flip the bird in thanks and continue on my merry track.
Do you know what it is that irritates me the most? The pretences. The phoney, silicone facades people apply every day. "Look at me!" they cry. "Look at my house! My car! My 2.5 children and white picket fence! I am living the dream!!"
A dream? No, More so a nightmare. Bright candied walls, blinding photographs; all the masks can't keep the shadows at bay. The shadows always find a way through. Nothing can beat darkness, not even the light.
Sometimes, I think I'm the only one in existence who's gotten it all figured out; life has nothing to do with living. It has everything to do with surviving. That is why I find myself locked behind these metal confines. I dared to remain, to go where the labelled graze.
Liberation does not exist; it is an illusion created by our minds, intent on giving some deep and important and profound "raison d'ĂȘtre". It is the root on what we base our most valid of archetypes. These great messiah's saved humanity from all its faults.
There is no saviour. Life will be forever flawed. The deep sense of raging hopelessness won't ever disappear. These facts are a part of ourselves; the part we all choose to hide and no amount of reasoning or justification will ever erase this.
The sun has dared to rise, its blinding rays burning deep into my eyes. Another day has come- unwelcome, unwanted and utterly useless. The cool metal nips my skin as I slide the window shut. Enveloping myself within the depths of branded black cow hide, my books jump into my arms and I stride to my cells door. Go forth and conquer, the words of a great leader whispers through my mind. Five minutes down, 23 hours and 55 minutes to go.
* Quick note please; the story seems rather grim at first, but if you have not yet left, leave your mark, and the tale will unravel. *
Caught between the pessimism and sadistic philosophies of his time, Mamoru finds his outlook changing ever so slightly with the introduction of a feisty, sweet tempered student. Takes place during the 50's. Below is a teaser. 5-10 reviews are needed for each chapter to be posted; I hate to do this, but there are far to many readers who refuse the author's somewhat pleasant demands for recognition. My ego needs the boost. Thank you all.
Awaken by screaming Of children by night Their fathers have left them Their souls died of fright. Leave to society, The fault is their own. And now, forever more The children are alone.
-Excerpt from my diary
Day to Day
Have you ever felt so, hopeless? As if life isn't worth all the stress and all the work? There is no avoidance of death. All that has been fought for with such valance is disposed unto the next generation. Yet, there are still those who continue the battles; every sunrise is the mark of a new mission- to escape and save the world, or at least the people of the world.
I am neither selfless, nor heroic. To me, each morning brings the dread of consciousness, the irritating gap between sleep. I am not a pessimist, or suicidal. I am a realist. I blink unflinchingly at whatever the universe feels like throwing my way, flip the bird in thanks and continue on my merry track.
Do you know what it is that irritates me the most? The pretences. The phoney, silicone facades people apply every day. "Look at me!" they cry. "Look at my house! My car! My 2.5 children and white picket fence! I am living the dream!!"
A dream? No, More so a nightmare. Bright candied walls, blinding photographs; all the masks can't keep the shadows at bay. The shadows always find a way through. Nothing can beat darkness, not even the light.
Sometimes, I think I'm the only one in existence who's gotten it all figured out; life has nothing to do with living. It has everything to do with surviving. That is why I find myself locked behind these metal confines. I dared to remain, to go where the labelled graze.
Liberation does not exist; it is an illusion created by our minds, intent on giving some deep and important and profound "raison d'ĂȘtre". It is the root on what we base our most valid of archetypes. These great messiah's saved humanity from all its faults.
There is no saviour. Life will be forever flawed. The deep sense of raging hopelessness won't ever disappear. These facts are a part of ourselves; the part we all choose to hide and no amount of reasoning or justification will ever erase this.
The sun has dared to rise, its blinding rays burning deep into my eyes. Another day has come- unwelcome, unwanted and utterly useless. The cool metal nips my skin as I slide the window shut. Enveloping myself within the depths of branded black cow hide, my books jump into my arms and I stride to my cells door. Go forth and conquer, the words of a great leader whispers through my mind. Five minutes down, 23 hours and 55 minutes to go.
