Disclaimer: I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. Ebaz: Thanks for your reviews! They are always so wonderful, and I hope you know that they never go unappreciated. Protag 8b: Don't worry about it. Jeez, I hope you feel better…Oh, and the Blurgh (God I love that) thing? I was just saying that I think that he's gay, but that doesn't mean he's gay WITH someone, per se…*Shifty ninja look* Okay maybe I was, but I'm not sure who that person is. Yet. It'll come to me in a Heath-like flash of inspiration. And I KNOW RITE about the Ruby thing. Just do it before us fangirls peer pressure you! DOOOO ITTTT. And your review for Chasing Dreams touched me. It really did. That 'escaping reality' feel was exactly what I was going for. My younger brother is autistic, so I know how you feel *hugs*. The world is cruel, and that's why I aspire to be an author. I need to escape. Kasumi: Awwww, I'm flattered. Feel free to request, and thank you very much for the review.

Question: What was your aura in Explorers of Darkness/Time/Sky? (As given to me by the amazingly nice, funny, totally awesome Insane Protag 8b)

My Answer: Lololol it's different every time. I usually get viridian, though. How about you guys? : )

Characters: You. Me. Us. (Next up is hoennshipping)

Summary: This is inspired by Insane Protag 8b's lovely comment. This goes out to you. This goes out to everyone that likes pokemon, actually. All the 'nerds' and the 'dorks'. All the people that have been labelled and written off, bullied or sneered at. This is for you.

Pokemon

~Live right now. Yeah, just be yourself~

When you were younger, you would always pretend that they were right beside you. In class, when things got boring, you would stare out the window and imagine that you could see flygons swooping over the field. You and a mew would play tag in your basement. An espeon and an umbreon would be on either side of you whenever you were walking alone. When you were crying, a gardevoir would be kneeling beside you, wiping away your tears. Bunearies would clamber onto your lap, and you would pet them, imagining the feel of their softness in your arms. They were always with you. Always.

Your bed was littered with plush toys of pokemon. You had boxes full of figurines of them. You would give them names, and make them battle; and, as you stood atop your bed with a fake pokeball in hand, you declared that you would one day go on a journey like Ash and catch them all.

That day never came.

You didn't know it. You wouldn't know it. Still you pretended- when you were cold, a flareon would come around and make you a fire to warm yourself. A marill would curl up beside you when you were sick. Pikachus scampered around your bedroom floor. But you had human friends now, too. Human friends that were interested in dollies or skateboards or anything other than what you were. Of course, there were other kids who collected the pokemon cards or watched the show. But they couldn't see what you saw. They were blind, just like everyone else.

You were the only one that could see.

You never did tell anyone else about your friends. Not even your parents. They looked at you, and just saw a child playing with their toys. Nothing else. But when you looked in the mirror, you imagined how you would look in a cap and fingerless gloves. You perfected your victory pose. You envisioned a pokemon perched on your shoulder.

Years passed, and that reflection in the mirror changed. The twinkle in your eyes dulled to a misted-over shine. Your face lost its roundness. Your body grew taller. And that joy of being with your pokemon, your friends, turned into something bittersweet. You would reach out to touch them, and your hand would pass right through. You could still imagine the feel of them whenever you embraced, but that word, imagine, registered. You were imagining. They weren't real. They would never be real.

You squeezed your eyes shut and wondered why.

Your human friends didn't know of your pain. They didn't see anything wrong. You were still laughing and smiling, of course; you got over it. But the pain never really went away. It lessened to an ache, but it was always there. The ache of lost dreams and aloneness.

So you played. You sat inside and played your DS or GBA pokemon games, even when your parents tsked at you for being too old for 'stuff like that'. When your friends came into your room and stumbled upon a cartridge, they'd crinkle their nose and say, "Why do you have this?"

Seeing the disgust in their eyes, you would lie. But they'd go on, laughing. "I remember when you used to think they were real." or "Do you remember when you liked this type of stuff?"

Your body would shake as you laughed along, but the noise would sound like broken glass, and each fragment would pierce you. Your body could feel the lie.

And every night, you would hug yourself and pretend that they really did exist. You would pretend that you were camping in the Petalburg Woods with your faithful companion cuddled into your side. If you were a girl, you would pretend that your rival really did fall in love with you, and you were falling in love with them in return; if you were a boy, you would pretend that each triumph against your rival was a real one, and you would be wearing a smile for the rest of the day after beating him so easily. You were someone incredible when you were with your pokemon. You could brave mountains and evil societies and win against anyone. You were invincible.

But then it would hit you all over again. You were a teenager in the real world. You had to go to school. You had friends that didn't get you and teachers that were mean and parents that thought you needed to get out more instead of playing that 'stupid game'.

Why is it stupid, Mom? Why is this stupid and not any of those shooter games? Why? Can you even answer me?

Why is it a waste of time, Dad? Why is this a waste of time? It's a game, sure- but this is the game that I grew up with. This is the game that taught me about right and wrong and friendship and what it means to have true strength. Why? Can you even answer me?

Why is this nerdy, best friend? Why is this nerdy and not getting drunk every night and grinding against people I don't know and trying too hard to fit in? I enjoy this game. It's fun. And you know what? My imaginary friends get me more than you ever will.

So why? Why is pokemon so underrated? Why is it a 'children's game'? Why?

I love it. I always have. Before I could talk, I've loved pokemon. I would carry around a little togepi figurine wherever I went. I would bounce on the trampoline with my celebi. The movies have beautiful meanings. The games are empowering. Graphics don't matter. The fact that it's a game doesn't matter.

Sometimes, when I'm crying myself sick and everything's crumbling to dust and reality's weight is falling onto me all at once, I still pretend that I can see bird pokemon fluttering outside my window. I still pretend that I have a friend that will love me unconditionally, no matter who I am or what I look like or what I say.

Don't give in to peer pressure. Do what makes you happy.

Be yourself.

~It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else~