#;journal entry

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Shirou-san is kind,  isn’t he?  Honestly,  I find myself being a little envious of him at times,  even though I know I shouldn’t.  I don’t know much about him past the other stories.  I know he’s suffered,  and I wonder if he’s still suffering to this day.  Silently behind a smile.

Humans are fascinating. They have clothes they wear on the outside for everyone to see, and then clothes to wear on the inside where no one will see them but themselves. And yet, they call some outerwear and others underwear, but none of them are called middlewear.

I need a reason to live. 

I need a reason to breathe.

I need a reason to fight.

What are we fighting for?

Where do we lose faith?

How to we become ourselfs?

Hope.

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The entry dates back to a week ago. The writing is rather neat for the most part.

I have tried to hate this man since I have met him, and I did hate him at some point. It's hard for me to grasp the fact that he was indeed the man that brought me into the clutches of that fucking giant. He has done so much after that.

It's funny. He practically hasn't left me alone since then. There have been times where I noticed his patience running thin, and times where he kept trying. I still do not understand why he ever has. But because of this, it's-- odd, to not have his presence around frequently. If I'm left by myself for quite sometime with nothing to distract myself with, he often pops up.

I still have not sorted out my feelings for him. There's the grudge buried beneath. The want need to protect his body that's been broken too much. I find myself wanting to at least have him around at random times, and then a while later wishing my hands were around his throat. I wish I could sort through these feelings more properly, but I think the minority are negative.

A conflict my muse had while dealing with their family, either resolved (and written in retrospect) or unresolved (and written in frustration of the event).

One of the reasons I resented my father was that he never seemed to care about my own well-being.

After I was grown-up and on my own, I always wanted to ask if he ever actually did. When I was a child, he was kind and seemed like a typical caring father but once I joined the Resistance, he became cruel.

Mourning the loss of someone dear to them (either to death or other causes).

Today’s mission was a success. We eliminated our target with ease, the team of androids I came with and I. Usually Orchid would specify the target but for this mission, it was kept vague. I suspected it was a test.

The target…was my father. He finally got the attention of the Black Wings and was set up to be assassinated. 

I didn’t have a problem with this, I thought but…it was my father who brought me to this world. After the battle was over and he was broken under his mech, I couldn’t fire the final shot. I thought of getting him back to his feet when an android finished the job for me.

That should have been the end of it…if my mother hadn’t entered the room.

The most important rule I was ever given was to never leave any witnesses.