/Judas! You wonderful, wonderful person, you! You win! The fairy tale was indeed Pinnochio! (Sorry, Bakamegami-sama and Aftertaste of a Razorblade, but Judas got it first). The reason I used Pinnochio? Well, I wanted to write a story using a fairy tale that no one else seemed to have used before. Do you think I managed it?

Those ten points, by the by, can be traded in to a deity of your choice for a minor miracle. Don't waste it!

Now we hit perhaps the most confusing chapter in the whole story. Thankfully, it's not very long. If you can get through it without getting totally lost, congratulations- even I had some trouble figuring out what Laura was trying to say./

Like the Sky Was Falling

I always used to believe that my main problem was that I thought too much. Thinking too much leads to depression, because it brings you contemplating the ultimate uselessness of living. What does it really matter, after all? In a hundred years time, what is it going to matter? Who is really going to remember unless you do something grand and wonderful or completely terrible? And what will that memory of yourself matter, when you aren't there to know that people still know of you?

But time isn't linear. Memory doesn't matter. What is now is forever. What is forever is only for now.

If thinking is what I do, then I will find some way to make it make me happy. If living is something I do, then I will find someway to live that I can be happy. Happiness is not an end; it is a means to an end.

What is the end?

I want to be real. I want to say what I feel without fear.

It was after a night of sitting by an open window, waiting for the sun to rise, when things started to make sense. Exhaustion can be helpful at times, or so I have always suspected.

It wasn't as complicated as I had made it out to be. It was so simple that anyone else might have laughed, might have cried, would have figured it out ages ago.

I was attracted to her. She was beautiful, she was amazing, and I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to admire that and have her admire me in return. As far as I could tell, from my anger-laced memories, she seemed to be attracted to me as well.

Simple. Very, very simple.

But then it wasn't as simple as I had made it out to be. I had been hurting. I was still hurting. Pain is the body's response when something is wrong. The more pain there is, the bigger the problem might be. My heart had been broken even before I figured out that I could love.

I had had to tear down all my illusions and all my excuses in order to find what was hurting me so much, and it had been those illusions. It had been those excuses. But ripping them out of myself had hurt even more than just leaving them there.

It wasn't so simple. It wasn't so complicated. That must mean that it wasn't one problem, just that all my problems were linked.

Natalie was right. I had cried so much that my soul was raw and I was hurting so much that I couldn't stop those tears. I was real. There was nothing separating me from the truth inside of me, there was nothing separating me from the pain. I was real.

But being real didn't solve the problems, like I had thought it would. It just showed me where they were.

There was fear now. I wasn't used to being afraid of anything. I had always figured that I could push my way through and if something tried to hurt me, I could hide. I'd always be able to retreat into myself and no one would ever know I hurt. Pain is not weakness, but showing it is.

So now, if I was to show everyone who I really was, that I wanted another girl, what was to keep me safe if everyone turned against me? How I could stand in front of them, naked to their eyes, with nowhere to hide from their ugly words and their laughing eyes and the pain that filled me when people hated me for what I truly was?

I didn't have to hide. I didn't have to feel pain. What they said didn't matter, because I was real, and they weren't. I would be strong because I had everything to fight for, now. Everything that I was.

It hurt so much when I tore those illusions away. I had made myself real. I had been reborn. I stared at the slowly brightening sky with wide eyes. I had stripped myself down to the bare bones and now I could grow again.

When a baby is born, it cries. When you remake yourself, when your own pain has carved a way for you to find a new life, what should you do? I had spent all night crying and I balked at the thought of making my face anymore raw.

So I laughed, for real for perhaps the first time in years. I laughed and I made my decision.

Fuck it- fuck all the pain and the fear. I would seek her out on Monday, and then we'd see what we would see.

/Review if you like, flame if you have to, blink in confusion if you just don't get it./