Ya know, some days I just sit back and just start pounding out all this philosophical shit like "What if reality is just a dream? And is reality the delusion, and death the reality? Or vies versa? Am I in a really long coma and everything and everyone I've ever known is a lie? What then? I wonder what it'd be like to have 33 fingers…

What if my life was just this incredibly boring fanfiction and I am at the mercy of the author's imagination? What if we find life on mars? This earth is just a speck inside a speck inside a speck…. And I'm not even on the scale. Why do men have nipples…?

Sometimes I really freak myself out when I start thinking about this mindless crap.

And then I remind myself, life is an illusion; we are just a conscious mass of protein, calcium, and fat. And that's all I'll ever need to know. End of story. And then this stuff comes out.

Well, I'm honored if you read all of that. It's really just meaningless garbage that makes no sense and has no importance whatsoever, but just as long as people care about my rambling. (Which no one does.)

Ahem.

Love

Shizuo believes in love. He knows that it exists. He's seen its wonders. He's seen what it can do to people. He knows that it can change your view on things. He knows it makes people happy; take Shinra and Celty for example. Does Shizuo believe in love for himself? No, because he is a monster and no one will love a monster.

Because he is a monster and there is no love available for a monster. Humans love other humans; they love only within the binds and boundaries of their own species. And since Shizuo does not consider himself human, and neither does a certain flea, there is no love reserved for him. But Shizuo knows of a different form of love, and just because he is not loved, does not mean that he cannot try.

Shizuo loves the birds and the trees and the flowers and the fountain at the park. He loves each blade of grass and each cloud in the sky. He loves the feeling of sick satisfaction that he gets when he actually manages to hit the flea with one of his projectiles.

He loves that split second when there is not smirk on the flea's face. And if he wasn't so angry, he would love the rush of adrenaline that he only got when he chased the flea.

Shizuo loves every drop of concrete it takes to pave the city he loves. He loves every building that takes root in the city he loves. He loves every person that helps make up his world, even though some of them are annoying and other keep their distance, but it is a down-played, soft-spoken love.

Not like Izaya's love. Not ever like Izaya's love. Because Izaya's love is sick and awful and hurts and destroys and Shizuo doesn't want to love like that. Because Izaya is twisted, touched, a louse, a parasite, a flea…. Shizuo's love isn't like Saika's love.

Shizuo's love is not like those cheesy romance comedies that he finds at one in the morning when he can't sleep. Shizuo's love isn't like those porn shows that he most certainly doesn't watch, because that really isn't love at all, just sex and chains and kink, which is different. Not his kind of thing at all.

Yes, Shizuo expresses his love in a very peculiar way, and sometimes it is hard to see, but if one observed him carefully, they could see a smile on his face instead of a scowl. An honest smile, not blood thirsty or toothy or sarcastic, something real. And that would make anyone realize that he's just a guy. Just a guy with a lot of anger and a short fuse and a heart of gold that nobody sees.

Sometimes it seems that Shizuo's love isn't there at all, never was and never will be, especially when he is throwing a citizen around, spewing out rage and vending machines, hurting and destroying and hating and leaving nothing intact. But Shizuo is full of love just as much as he is anger.

If he were to speak of objects that he had become quite fond of, Shizuo would have to list a few. Shizuo loves the vending machines, and as much as he loves all the poles and trash cans and other heavy objects, and almost as much as he loves his cigarettes. But other than that, there really isn't anything else to reserve a special place in his heart.

A pity.

Those rare times when his grin is sincere instead of poisonous, when he is so full of euphoria that it is singing in his veins and in the air around him, that he sits back and watches the world with an unlit cigarettes dangling from his lips, Shizuo is radiating love and happiness and nothing could spoil his day.

Nothing, until he gets up to finish his lunch and go back to a city of frustrating people, and fleas with cunning smiles that kill. That is the time when he wonders to himself why he's still living there in the first place.

But he isn't willing to do anything about it. So he'll sit back with his cancer sticks and a temper burning shorter everyday along with unhealthy stress and a worry about heart attacks in the back of his mind.

Shizuo doesn't understand love. He doesn't understand why it is that there's a match for just about any and everybody in this world, even someone like the flea, though he wonders about that sometimes. Why is there a soul mate or everyone else in this world except for him? Why is he the exception?

Could Someone like Izaya find love, true love, looking past all his lies and smiles, deep into carmine eyes and seeing a… A what? A cheater, a liar? Or just an ordinary man with a flair for drama? Could someone love a flea that does nothing but ruin, and accept them along with all the lies and treachery?

The day that Izaya finds someone like that, is the day that Shizuo is a true believer. The day Izaya finds someone to truly love him for who he is, is the day that Shizuo will begin to hope that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for him somewhere out there after all.

Shizuo does not understand why there can't be someone, just one person, that's all he needs. Just one person to look him in the eyes and tell him that they are not afraid.

He does not understand why people perceive him as heartless and mean. He doesn't want to be known as that. He doesn't want to die and leave people saying "Ah, I remember Shizuo, what a nasty man he was," He doesn't want to be laid to rest with a head stone that reads, "Here lays the monster."

Because he's a person underneath all that armor, just like the rest of them.

He wonders why no one seems to see the way he loves every square inch of Ikebukuro. Love is a foreign language to Shizuo. He knows the basics, but he doesn't know why no one seems to feel it for him.

He's a monster, so he knows their have their reasons, but he can't help but wonder what it's like to feel love for one person in particular, instead of inanimate things. He wonders what it's like to feel such a strong feeling such as love as to dedicate his life to someone.

Maybe it's his own fault. Maybe it's his own fault that he can't let anyone get close without wanting to push them away, tell them, Please stay away from me, I'm dangerous and I don't want to hurt you.

He hopes that someone, somewhere out in this huge wide world will come to notice that he's a decent man, that he doesn't deserve half the shit that's thrown at him but deals with it anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, someone can find a place in their heart for someone like him. Knowing that would make him happier than anything.