Masked Fighter

There are educated times where I will find a quiet spot. One away from the bustle of these busy alleys and rattling chimneys and rooftops, away from this city that glows with this life and energy. In these times, I must find a way to loose myself from even myself, away from my speeding thoughts.

My head pounds, my body tingles, I cannot think any more. I yearn for silence, to yell, and obtain an abrupt ocean of emptiness. Maybe it is illusion, but the pain makes it all too real: a throbbing pulse, much like a heart beat, but one that doesn't give life.. My thoughts are jumbled, and my breath comes short. I will try to slow it, loose myself into the emptiness that I desire, slowly loosing consciousness. An ocean of black, covering me, stifling, yet comforting.

There are times of turmoil where my vacant mind must find an empty place, otherwise fearing the end of something: the build up of pressure. This is when I must find a place to meditate, to find my inner peace, or just to loose these explosive thoughts to the ever changing wind of the fields and forests.

I dream of a blue sky. I am alone, and surrounded by only air and wind, yet my back is protected. There is no need for armour, or sitting against a tree trunk to make sure I won't be stabbed in the back. My eyes are closed, yet I feel as if I could see a vast expanse of nature and it's scenery, picturing it as a bird might, surveying it's majestic expanse, one of green. The sun shines high, the clouds stretch across the fabric of time and space… I dream.

Then, there are also times where I will find repose in thinking of my own life and person, but without being selfish. I appear (though I am not sure..) to understand the character that makes myself myself, if you understand what I mean…And this is simply because of the fact that I am the one who has created this facet of my identity, I am the one who has made myself.

Have people not noticed the twitches and pauses at times that would've surely given me away, or have they just dismissed it as unimportant? Have they just forgotten me? Or have I changed that much that I have faded into the background, away from these staring eyes. Have I become that diluted, loosing my flavour. Perhaps it is for the better… Because now they won't notice me…?

Although I often find myself analysing my comrades and acquaintances, there is always a limit that divides my thought into making up different stories in order to explain what I am pondering about. And this is why I find that my limited understanding of myself is much deeper than that of the people I live my daily life with.
It is a rather puzzling dilemma.

A tiny twitch on my lips betrays the lopsided grin threatening to curve on my lips, contrasting with my cold blue eyes as I watch what goes on around me. It is funny that they do not bother me by following me to my daily target practice, or when I go to the hot springs that I found to do some water-walking. It is funny that they aren't more curious about my life, how I live, and the way I live it. I bump into someone, keeping my pace steady, my shaded, glazed-over eyes lost in the distance of the crowded street. Perhaps they think that it is none of their business… And I don't know whether I should agree or not..

And what I find amusing, is that people still call me stupid, or, idiot, or, that loudmouth, or all of the above combined. Which is why I laugh at them underneath my already happy face. They don't notice anything, and that is why I find it so funny. They haven't noticed that I can relate to them, find out that all their little secrets have been far exceeded by my own, and that what they think is me, isn't me.

I laugh, the bitter sound of my demise hidden by happy, stifled giggles. My hair flies in the wind as I slash with kunai at the slowly falling autumn leaves blown away in the sudden cool gust of wind. I am fast. As fast as the wind. I will catch all of them sliced before they reach the ground. It is fun, feeling that sentiment of exhilaration rushing though me, my veins, and my blood as the world happens to turn so slow. I am free…Free from all boundaries presented and penetrated. I have left the lagging world behind in numbers: I have seen. I am free.

There are times of excitement and times of sadness,
Times of movement and times of stillness.
I am me, forever unrestrained by no one but myself.
And yet there are times,
when it hurts.
But why?