Author's Note: Here we are at chapter 4. So far, this story ranks as Number 1 on my list of Most Often Updated Stories By Me. Not sure how long that will last, but for now I'm pretty proud of myself.

Disclamier: I don't own Itex, or the ideas of Erasers, magical creatures like centaurs/werewolves/unicorns/angels, and I do not own the song "Welcome to My Life".

Okay, not really anything I want. I still have the problems relating to realistic unreality, and I still have to make sure it's "obvious" that the movie isn't made from memories. Even though Itex can't hurt me (if the news can be trusted, which I'm assuming to be true) I still don't want scientists and zoologists finding me and going into "study the mutant freak" –mode. I highly value my freedom, thank you very much.

So now I'm sitting in my little stolen-tarp-thrown-over-a-tree-branch tent, staring at twelve comic strips held down by paper weight pebbles. I sold the camper last year. Too many memories. Too many ghosts waiting to jump out at me and tear my heart to shreds. Metaphorically, I think.

It's midnight, so I'm wide awake. I'll take a dose of sleeping pills around two a.m., and get just enough rest to stay awake through school. Being four-percent owl is hard when I have to have the day schedule of a human.

Over the past three days, I've scrapped six of my original nine plans, and made a bunch more. These are less likely to be very noticeable as beacons pointing toward an escaped experiment from the Alaskan facility, but they also seem very boring, and several are just plain nonsense. One involves using my imagination to get a video of a boy swearing to "destroy the horrid creatures that killed his parents" and then he goes into the woods and kills a werewolf. There's a difference between courage and idiocy. Nobody goes looking to fight monsters like werewolves and Erasers. It's bad enough when they come looking for you. Or me. So that's not gonna be it.

So far, the one I dislike the least (not that I like it the most—I don't like any of them, but with varying levels of distaste) comprises of me, with different colored eyes and a glowing halo, facing off against a red, glowing Eraser over the soul of some human. Yeah, that's just something that popped into my head while I studied for my World Cultures semester exam; an obscure chapter I happened to need to re-write my notes for was about various religions. The ideas of angels and demons are really weird, but it's a way that I could explain the white wings, and use the color- and light-altering effects. But it still doesn't feel right. I'm not sure if it's instincts or what, but I just don't think I should use this as my video. I need something…different.

"Frii! Frii, come here! You've GOT to check this out!" I blink slowly, and sit up straight in my chair. Looks like I fell asleep during study hall again. Ugh.

"What? Did one of the advance chemistry students put a slime bomb under Mr. Jet's desk again?" Not much happens in this class very often, so some of the more obnoxious kids tend to make it "less boring."

"No. But I found something even cooler on the internet! Come here!" Tiffany bounces in her seat, and it's hard to miss the energy reflected in her expression. She can really get herself worked up over the most random things.

I yawn, and go over to her. "What?" It appears she is on a video-sharing website, and the movie she's looking at is paused, with an angry looking black centaur on-screen.

"Check it!" She beams as she presses the Play button.

The centaur turns his head to the side, shining tears streaming down his face. Music starts playing.

Do you ever feel like breakin' down?

Do you ever feel out of place?

The camera zooms out, and the centaur looks at the many horses, and the few humans that surround him. One human taps a horse that she is using to pull her carriage, and another human whips the centaur.

Like somehow you just don't belong,

And no one understands you?

The centaur cries out and runs into a nearby forest. He lies down in a thicket, and his sobs rack his body.

Do you ever wanna run away?

Do you lock yourself in you room

With the radio on turned up so loud

That no one hears you screaming?

The centaur looks through the gaps in the bushes, glaring at a passing human.

No, you don't know what it's like

When nothing feels alright.

You don't know what it's like

To be like me!

The centaur gets up, and gallops far way from the herds and villages. His fists tighten, and his face shows anger, depression, and determination. As he races through the forest, the camera pivots around his body, focusing on the many cuts, bruises, and scars he bears. Day turns to night as he continues on his journey.

To be hurt,

To feel lost,

To be left out in the dark.

A unicorn passes near the centaur, a small humanoid being riding on her back. The rider sneers at the centaur, and the unicorn rears up, striking him in the knee. The centaur falls. The rider laughs as his mount steps over the centaur, nudging him hard with her hoof as she does so.

To be kicked

When you're down,

To feel like you've been pushed around.

The centaur slowly stands up again, and limps forward a few paces. His silver tears fall hard and fast now, and no beings, magical or human, make any attempt to help him.

To be on the edge of breakin' down,

And no one cares to save you.

No you don't know what it's like.

Welcome to my life—

The music ends abruptly, and the video freezes at a picture of the centaur's clenched jaw.

"I can't get the school computer to load it any farther. Not sure why. But wasn't that cool?"

I shrug. "I guess. Did you have any reason for showing it me, other than that you think it's cool?" I yawn again. Stupid nocturnal genes.

"Well, I thought you might like it since, you know, most of the books you read are science fiction or fantasy. And you said you needed some inspiration for your DMM project."

"I said I had some inspiration but it would be hard to make a movie from it. I just need an idea on how to use the inspiration I have."

Tiff rolls her eyes at me. "Same difference. Just trying to help."

"Thanks anyway." I return to my desk and glance at the doodles I had started at the beginning of study hall. Nothing really unique from what I generally draw. A few "angels" with black, brown, and white wings; some lighting bolts, clouds, and other sky stuff; Erasers in various stages of transformation; a half-finished robot…

I continue to sketch in the plasma gun attached to the robot's right arm, but after a couple minutes I put down my pencil. I can't get my mind off the subjects of my past. That video really didn't help keep my memories buried in the bottom of the mental abyss I call my brain. While I was watching it, it didn't really bring any deep emotion or thoughts to the front of my mind. But once I woke up a bit more, I keep noticing the similarities between my life and that centaur's. I'm a freak. I don't belong with humans, or with birds, because I'm neither; I'm something in between. I spend most of my life running or hiding from anyone who might know what I am. Everyone takes joy in hurting me, or just doesn't care enough to try not to hurt me. Even when I pretend to be human, my life sucks. I just can't get around it. I've always been a mutant freak of nature and I always will be.

I sigh. Self-esteem, I introduce you to the floor.

Yes, I do have a tendency to incorperate songs into my stories. I just happen to get most of my inspiration from songs, and I think in pictures, so when I listen to those songs I end up thinking of movie-like sequences rather than huge stories. Which is why I have so many songfics and why the little movie up there is a songfic. Please don't hate me for it. I'd very much like to hear from all my wonderful readers and reviewers!