Okay, so this fic is a thing that happend. It probably shouldn't, but this is what happens when you write something when you're tired beyond believe and listening to 'Lost Cause' by Beck on repeat. You get something like this. Honestly, I don't exactly know what this is, it was basically a way to vent my frustration at not being able to come up with an ending for a chapter I was working on in another fic. I'm sorry if this sucks. like I said this was mainly a way to vent out my frustrations (I may or may not have accidently projected myself into Kuki, whoops). And yes, I am aware that everyone is very OOC, but that's mainly because none of them (save Abby) have their memories from when they were younger. Their entire childhoods were whipped clean from their head. The endings kind of open-ended, so you can imagine what you want. Also I didn't know what to put for years so thank you 'XX's'

WARNING: This fic has some darker themes such as mentions of depression and suicide. No matter what's going on, suicide is never the answer. Unless the question is 'what is never the answer to your problems.' That is the only time when suicide is the answer. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own KND.

October 17th, 20XX,

Memories are a peculiar thing. They can define your entire being. You can either learn from your past mistakes or get hung up on them. You can focus on the good old days or you can look forwards to tomorrow. It really depends all on the person.

However, if you were to ask me what I remember from my childhood, my answer will always be the same: "I don't know."

In all honesty, I don't remember anything from my childhood, no matter how hard I try. I've tried everything from meditating, to internet methods, to therapy (although I was forced to do the last one by my parents). However, none of that helped. The earliest memory that I can recall is my thirteenth birthday party. It was supposed to be a big day apparently, to mark my transition from childhood to teenhood. I don't understand what the big deal was, I didn't have a party or anything. It was just me, my sister, and our parents. There was cake, presents and a couple cards from distant family, as well as an unmarked card from an anonymous person, though I think it's Mushi.

The thing I remember most about that day was the feeling of numbness. I don't know why, but on that day it was like a part of me curled up and died. But the worst part about that entire thing is the fact I had absolutely no idea why I felt that way. My mom had said that it was just a part of becoming a woman, and that it would go away a few days later. But the thing is, it hasn't gone away yet. I waited, and waited, and waited. A few days became a few weeks, which in turn became a few months. And in exactly one week it will have been four years since the numbness started.

I don't know why I can't remember. I've read about childhood amnesia, but that's usually just the case for young children and toddlers. I've also read that if something traumatic happens it might lead to repression, but if that was the case, my entire childhood wouldn't be repressed. I asked my parents if I had any head injuries that might have caused me to forget, but they said that as far as they were aware I hadn't. They told me, however, that me and my friends did used to play rough.

It's an odd thought. Me playing rough with friends. That's not something that I thought I'd put in the same sentence in a million years. I'm not very popular at school, I keep to myself mostly. Maybe it's because I hate surrounding myself with people who don't really care. They act like they understand, they act as though they care… But deep down, I know that they don't. I don't blame them, what I go through most kids don't. I know I shouldn't complain, millions of kids have it way worse. Which is why I feel so bad about feeling bad.

There is one girl in my school who I actually think does care though, and isn't just faking it. Her name is Abby. I wouldn't necessarily consider us friends, but we're not quite strangers either. She's probably one of the only people other than my therapist who will actually listen to my problems. But for some reason, whenever I bring up the fact I can't remember my past, she acts strange and changes the subject. I can't help but wonder if I used to know her or something, but I doubt that. She would have said something by now, wouldn't she?

October 24th, 20XX,

It's my birthday. I am now seventeen years old. I should be happy, I should celebrate. But the thing is, I don't want to. I don't want it to be my birthday. I don't want to be another year older. Every year, when it's my birthday, it feels more and more like my death date. My parents told me that I can't just sit home and do nothing, so we went out to a restaurant. The waiter ended up spilling soda on my lap. We went home after that without even having dinner. But that's fine, I didn't want them to waste the money on something for me to eat when I didn't even have an appetite.

I got another unmarked birthday card in the mail today. I don't know why, but it seems to be a yearly thing. I get a card with nothing written on the envelope or inside of the card, just a simple card saying happy birthday. I still think that it's Mushi who's been leaving them, but she denies doing it. I can't think of anyone else who would leave me a birthday card outside of my family, not to mention the fact I don't know of anyone right off hand that knows when my birthday is at school.

Speaking of my family, I got a gift in the mail from my grandmother in Japan. Apparently she forgot I was seventeen and got me a Rainbow Monkey suffed animal. Apparently I used to love those when I was younger. When opened it the first thing I did was go into my room to try not to cry. You have no idea how frustrating it is to not remember anything. My mind is trying so hard to grab ahold of the memories, and sometimes it feels like I'm so close to reaching it… but no mater how far I stretch it's always just out of my reach, if it's even there at all. It's just so difficult. I don't know how much longer I can live like this. I honestly can't recall the last time I've truely felt happy. Sure I can wear a smile for my family and my therapist, but deep down I'm completely numb. I'm not sure if it's because I don't want to feel because it hurts or because I just can't. I honestly don't know anymore.

January 1st, 20XX,

Happy New Years.

I know, I missed Christmas. But that's just another day that makes me feel numb. I want to be able to feel something. But I think my ability to feel has been left in the place that my memories were. I'm pretty sure that if I were to kill someone I wouldn't feel any regret.

…

…

...

...okay. That got really psychopathic really fast. I was joking, by the way. In case anyone ever actually reads this one day. Although if you did, that would be pretty screwed up. What kind of asswipe reads a girl's diary anyways? Although, I guess that the real reason I am writing this is so people remember me once I'm gone. It's kind of ironic, isn't it? The girl who can't remember the first twelve years of her life's worst fear is to be forgotton. The most ironic thing in all of this in the fact that everything I talk about leads to the fact that I can't remember. Oh, wow. This New Year is off to a very ironic start, isn't it? That is just great. Oh, look. Sarcasm. You know, this might be what happens when you make a bet with your younger sister of who can stay up longer before entering the New Year. So far it's been three days, however Mushi looks like she's about to pass out, so I just need to last a little longer before I fall asleep.

Note to self, take a selfie with Mushi to prove that I stayed up longer than her before I fall asleep too.

Honestly, I don't even know why wrote in here today. I have nothing to say. Anyways, it looks like I win this bet, so I'm going to go. Wow, this is probably the first time I properly finished a diary entry.

...nope. Still numb. Oh well, it was worth a try.

March 24th, 20XX

I'm sorry. I tried. I tried so freaking hard to deal with it. But the thing is, I can't take it anymore. In English we were assigned a project to recreate a childhood memory in writing. I tried to tell my teacher that I honestly didn't remember any of my childhood, and they told me to stop being a little brat and to not try to get out of the assignment. Not to mention the fact that it was said very loudly, in the middle of class, and for the past week people have been teasing me about it nonestop.

It's getting hard. My therapist retired and moved to Florida and I'm being forced to see a new one, who is trying to tell me that I remember but am just choosing not to accept it.

I knew these are stupid reasons to do the unforgivable, but maybe I'm just trying to rationalize my solution for my situation. It's just… I can't take this… I'm so tired. I'm just so, so tired… I'm sorry…

With Love,

Kuki Sanban

Kuki sat down her pen as she stared at the sheet of paper in front of her, tears dripping from her eyes. To be honest, sadness and anger seemed to be the only emotions she had anymore. She couldn't will herself to smile or laugh anymore, whether it be real or fake. She could hardly will herself to do anything anymore. But this… yeah, she would be able to do this.

Kuki closed her journal as she stood up, glancing over the side of the bridge, glancing down at the rushing water about a hundred feet below or so. She glanced up at the sky, the moonlight shinning on her face. She wasn't scared about what she was about to do. No, if anything she was scared of what came after. Was their truely a heaven and hell like so many religions say? Or was in reincarnation? Eternal sleep? Kuki sure hoped it wasn't an endless cycle of repeating her life over and over again.

Sighing lightly, Kuki slipped past the guard-rail, standing on the ledge of the bridge, her toes handing off of it. Her hands rested gently on the rail, not wanting to fall of before she was ready. She closed her eyes as she felt the wind blow on her face. Taking a deep breath, Kuki opened her eyes. She was just about to jump of when she heard a voice.

"'Ey, you don't really wanna do that, do ya?" an accented male voice said, Kuki whipped her head in the direction she heard it from and was shocked to see a man standing there. He was about average height, with shaggy blonde hair that covered his eyes. Kuki didn't know what it was, but something about him seemed very familiar.

"And what if I do?" Kuki questioned.

"There are betta' ways to deal with ya problems." The male said, shaking his head slightly to get his hair out of his eyes so he could see the woman. "Wait- Kuki?"

"Do I know you?" Kuki questioned suspiciously.

"Yea, I'm Wally. We go to school togetha'. Please… don't jump. Rememba', lotta people care about ya." Wally said as he catiously started walking towards her.

"If that were true then I wouldn't be here…"

"Well I care about ya'." Kuki frowned at Wally as he stood there.

"You don't even know me."

"Well I could. If you get down." Kuki sighed.

"Face it, you wouldn't even talk to me if I wasn't up here." Kuki said.

"That's cause you won't let 'nyone in. I tried. But even so I'll be dammed it I let ya die up here." Kuki's eyes met with Wally's, and something clicked in her brain. And at that moment, Kuki knew what she had to do.

I'll just leave the rest to your imaginations. Anyways, did I already say that I'm sorry about this fic? Because I am. A lot. Anyways, yeah.

Suicide isn't the answer kiddo's. Also I put a lot of what Iearned from Psychology in this. ARE YOU PROUD OF ME MS. K?!

So yeah, I mainly just wanted to do a KND fic but didn't know what to do it on, and this was what happend.