/I can see myself drifting farther and farther away…no end in sight, but one of outer contempt and inner sorrow…/

Slowly I opened my eyes, blinking the lethargic sleep from my tired blue orbs. From my direction, I can see bright sunlight streaming through my window. Spring has just begun, the buds on the trees blooming into small, delicate blossoms. Year after year, chance after chance to bloom. A new beginning.

If only life worked that way.

Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling for many moments. My room is my sanctuary; my only source of peaceful solitude. Here, no prying eyes gaze at me. I receive no threats from within these pale walls. I draw comfort from my blue comforter, from my sparse yet expressive décor. Only pictures I find meaningful to me adorn the walls, and that which I cherish are stored gently and with care. It is the single place where I do not withdraw into myself; hide myself or veil my thoughts.

But outside of here…that's a totally different story.

Sighing, I close my eyes again, and rest my forearm lightly across my brow, effectively blocking the early morning's rays. I should at least attempt to salvage the last moments I have, before I am forced to…

Beep, beep, beep!

My alarm is going off, signifying that I have to rise. Running a hand through my mussed brown locks, I slowly crawl out from under my comforter. Yawning, I quickly dress in what I find to be crisp air. My morning routine always remains the same. For that, I am grateful.

I've never really had good experiences with change.

It's 8:15. As always, I'm half an hour early. I drop my bag off at my usual seat, and decide to start working on my English assignment. I might as well make the most of my time.

Pulling out a neat notebook and the requirement sheet, I once again let my eyes wander across the expectations. Grammar—that's a given, it is English class after all. Punctuation, format, presentation…standard stuff, no big deal.

But then, there's the second half of the sheet. The self-expression. The whole idea of the assignment…"Look into yourself. What do you see?

What are you? What makes you tick?

What makes you get up every morning, to begin a new day?

What is it that you long for, that you are grateful for?

…

…

…

Who are you, and who is this person that you claim to be?"

Every one of those phrases hits a little too close to my true self. This assignment…should I really tell the truth, about how pitiful my life is, and make them think that I'm either pining away for their sympathy, or mentally disturbed?

The latter might be true, but that's no reason to point it out. I've learned that any piece handed in as a so-called "assignment" no longer remains as private thoughts. They're to poke and prod at, to dissect and analyze.

So…

Should I lie? Fabricate a tale of my life?

Or should I risk a little piece of me to be read by someone whom I really don't even know?

It's a lose-lose situation. I'm a very private person, and these kinds of projects always bother me. If you ask me, I think that the professors just enjoy reading about other people's lives.

But…I couldn't bear to put false words on that page. Honesty is a virtue that I treasure greatly. I make it a habit not to go against that.

I decide to answer truthfully. If not for an outstanding grade, then for myself. There'll always be another assignment to do, so for now…This will do.

Look into yourself. What do you see?

I see a lonely soul, wanting and waiting to be understood.

What are you?

I am…a writer. A thinker. A contemplator. An entity made to watch from afar.

…What makes you get up every morning, to begin a new day?

Hope. A sincere, undying hope, that this day will become a memory I may grasp and hold onto, so that one day, I may be able to look back…and smile.

What is it that you long for, that you are grateful for?

I long for acceptance. For kindness—not the kind that comes out of pity, but the kind that comes from sincere want. I long for the ability to walk with confidence, my head held high. I long for blue skies and clear days, and for others to find that I have made an impact on their lives, and who they strive to be.

I am grateful for the subtle beauties in life. The glowing radiance of pale sunlight at dawn, the days given filled with merriment and joy—all that I one day may be able to experience with no regrets.

Who are you, and who is this person you claim to be?

I am Heero Yuy. As for who I claim to be…still am I discovering, each day, who and what I am. I live on hope—and whether or not that hope lasts till I reach a life I am satisfied with, will I know.

The bell rings. Classmates file in sluggishly, their pace mismatched with their lively, animated talk. I sit and watch them from a distance, a part of me longing to join them. Yet, I know that the person I am now will never be able to achieve that. It remains a wish that will likely never be granted.

Shutting my book, I gently tuck my notes away into my bag, and prepare for the day's lesson.

Class shall begin soon.