Written by Silent Serenade
19/01/03
I don't feel too well. But don't worry, I suppose I'll get better, somehow. Perhaps it's just one of these days. Tis my first Kenshin fic, only because I felt sorry for what he has to hide. Inspired by one of the Animé's pieces, Starless, which is in the beautiful A minor.
Disclaimer: You're probably not even reading this.
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." — Psalms 46:1
~~~~~~~~~~
Everything changes.
People around you change. Your intentions and directions change. Times change, taking you along with the plummet. And in the end, that strong faith, confidence and light changes.
Change? Perhaps it merely disappears.
It's pathetic though, how no one notices. Wars fought, blood spilt, sacrifices made, only to be nothing more than a mere memory for those who once had steadfast belief that despite all to happen in the future, they will live to regret and mourn for the past.
The Revolution took place. Swords, sleek, agile and dangerously beautiful swords, were treasured as monuments. Funerals, tributes to those who gave themselves so freely for a cause were grieved upon for a moment until they were barely remembered by friends and family. And the vows, eternal oaths of dignity and honour, to always learn and gain from the appalling experiences, were forgotten or discarded with the plunge of time.
It happens so much, the effects so tremendous that nobody will ever care for those who are still trapped by the agonising nightmares and ghastly pain. Nobody will notice those whose souls are silently and bitterly still at war.
Or perhaps, they're just simply fooled by the impenetrable mask firmly planted to prevent the hate from leaking.
It hurts. When your closest friends glance at your happy, smiling face and simply assume you to be carefree and without the slightest worries. Coming to the conclusion of your innocence and naivety without a second thought to the countless wounds bleeding and penetrated too deeply to heal. Blood which even time may not place her drugged essence upon.
Suffering here in silence, alone from the rest of the world. Knowing no one would ever understand what's once happened and will happen in the dark, treacherous paths. What is taking place right now, where futile struggles against the inner nature to continue this bittersweet act of nonchalance.
Sometimes, the desire to kill is too strong.
It would be a shame though, to become a hypocrite after gently lecturing others of the pointless suicides they've attempted. How it does not help to loose another life after the slaying of so many others.
But he's already lost. From the moment of being blinded by the bright darkness of red as the air tasted foul, filthy, deliciously sweet blood. That once beautiful spark of love, hope, and all that he believed in died without shimmering, smothered by the anger and rage around him.
Everything changes. But what's lost cannot be found again. She calls, and I must answer. Must return to be the sweet, innocent man with a dark, horrible past. Must enter a dream of blessed oblivion, throwing away everything else, continuing to exist alone. Must restrain the eternal yearning of finally resting in peace, hanging onto an invisible thread of life, empty and meaningless. Hopeless. Loveless.
Starless.