Just Maybe

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts

A mirror shows us for what we truly are, and our reflection isn't always what we want to see. Inside the mystical parallel universe, there are no petty little secrets or lies to cover up all the insignificant details that make our lives anything less than perfect. Every flaw, every difficulty is as visible as the fake smile plastered on the not-so-innocent face.

But hey, the truth hurts. Sometimes it's easier to just turn away from the mirror; ignore all the bad things we've done- and we only meant good, right? We can never escape it, but maybe (just maybe) we can forget about it for a while.

She sets the fragment of glass face down on the table and forces it as far away from her as possible, leaving all the nasty thoughts with it as she retracts her arms and lets them fall to her lap. Her sketchbook lies there waiting for her where she left off. She grasps the blue pencil from the selection laid out before her and lets the light color spill from the tip, staining the paper and filling in the space that makes up her eyes. When she's done she holds the book out for a final examination. This one will go on the wall soon, next to the other masterpieces she's created. This being the first time she's ever bothered to draw herself, it'll be a nice, new addition.

She didn't need the mirror for reference. She's looked in it a thousand times and her appearance has never changed- the same pale blonde hair falls over the same porcelain shoulder, and the same lifeless blue eyes always stare back at her. She just needs to remind herself every once in a while that she really is there, and not the nothing that she's always been told she is. It's sad really; pathetic in its own special way. But maybe (just maybe) it helps her cope with the terrible, terrible, awful crimes she has committed.

She likes to pretend that she didn't completely ruin his life. She knows that she has made mistakes, but now she is fixing them. And when she's done, they can start over and maybe (just maybe) be real friends.

If nothing else, it's nice to believe that dreams like that can come true. A life where the two of them can be together with no deceit to get in the way. A life full of laughter and joy and so many other emotions that she doesn't understand- but she wants to. This life is much prettier. It's full of rainbows and butterflies and smiles and light.

And it doesn't exist. Just like her.

Her hand twitches ever so slightly and the book hits her thighs with a silent thud. With a hollow, aching chest she desperately reaches out for the mirror again, clutches the sides and stares into it.

She absently finds herself comparing what she sees in it with what she's drawn. In each image she sees herself, but, aside from the dimensional qualities that separate them, something's not right. If her reflection represents who she truly is, then the fantasy child on the piece of parchment is more alive than she'll ever be. But who's to say that the intangible girl behind the glass isn't any less broken than her? Even the truth can be twisted and warped until it falls apart completely, and all she'd have to do is apply enough pressure to snap the object in her hands in two. It would be so easy. Besides, to anyone else, she can pass as normal. On the outside she looks, sounds, and feels real. Is it so farfetched that maybe (just maybe) she is real after all?

Sadly, yes.

As always, she comes to the same conclusion; it just doesn't work that way. Sighing a miserable choke of breath, she gives in once again to the undeniable truth that she is Naminé, not Kairi. Not now, not ever. She is the wicked witch of the castle that tears memories apart; the wannabe princess of a fairytale nightmare. Try as she might to be anything but, the truth is that she is nobody.

And hey, the truth hurts.