Cyrus Kane: Wanderer FINISHED

Do you hear that, it's the peaceful music of a serene world, the birds singing and the sun shining brightly in the sky overhead...and I HATE every bit of it. Happiness is overrated because happines is a direct link to love, and love is stupid because everyone you love hurts you. Oh how fragile happiness is, some small little action can make the whole thing topple over, and where once there was love now there is hate...and hate...I love hate. See this is a harmless love...I can't get hurt by it because hate is a feeling not a physical object...and I'm full of hate. I hate people because people hurt me, the ones I loved hurt me...my family and my friends always told me they loved me...but they betrayed me. Shall I explain to you more about my life...hmmmmm...everyone loves a good story...it's so funny to see how quickly people can fall. Then again, it's human nature...we're all a little crazy...aren't we.

So, my life started just like every other person...the only difference was I was a mistake. Sort of a whim, a little gift that wasn't wanted, I was nothing but a bastard...I WAS A MISTAKE. Now isn't that funny, born to parents who didn't even want me, who didn't even love me...they did a good job of pretending though I'll give them that. For the first few years of my life, at least the ones that I remember, I actually believed they loved me. It was all perfectly wonderful until I found out that my folks were just waiting till I was old enough to throw into a foster home or onto the streets. Isn't love wonderful, it was love that made me...was it so hard to actually treat me like I was their child instead of a freak. This is just one example of what love is...love...what does that word even mean...love isn't what I got from my parents...but I loved them anyways. It was hard to love them it really was...but I had no reason to hate them for neglect or disdain, I could deal with that.

Oh but how wrong I was, I couldn't deal with it, and I know very few people who could have dealt with it. How many times did I have to go through the abuse of my wonderful father because he didn't like me? Infact as time went on he even decided he hated my mom, blaming her for everything, including my existence. Truly wonderful isn't it, this is what people call love, look at how love served me and my mom. It betrayed us and left us for dead...he betrayed us and left us for dead. Love gets you no where but in trouble or it will fill you with suffering. At least the suffering that I spread isn't caused by love...I guess you could call it a crusade against love. It was tough to go through all of this as it was, but then my mom went and killed herself because she believed she couldn't make it without dad. Almost took me with her, but she took most of the impact, just left me with a cracked skull and a terrible memory.

Home, home, home is where the heart is, or at least that's what people are always saying. What do you do when you have no heart though, where is your home if that's the case? I didn't have a home, I was just that nut with a split skull and a memory that couldn't piece together much of anything. So I was basically given two choices, either live in a foster home or on the streets, and if I had truly and honestly been given a choice I would have picked the streets. But of course I wasn't REALLY given a choice, some adult made it for me. In reality I should have been put in the asylum at that point, I was a terrible child with severe mental problems. Always getting into trouble, or getting other people into trouble. Never the less, I still had a few people I could call my friends, some people that didn't treat me any different from them. Though I will say that they had a knack for terrible jokes and teasing me, but they said it was all good natured stuff that friends always did.

I showed great promise in knife wielding at the training facilities, whether it be throwing or just using them in hand to hand combat. I was enthralled with the looks of panic my sparring partners would get when I broke through their defenses and feigned driving the knife into them. Something I've learned...you see the true colors of someone when they are in a fight...whether losing or winning. Fear rules the world, it rules all of us...it's what keeps us from overthrowing our wonderful leader. You see fear is the ultimate motivator in this world, and yet it can also paralyze us and leave us incapable of action. It is chaos in its purist form, and when you're skilled enough you can tap into fear to use as your greatest weapon. You see when I fought people I had two weapons, my knives...and...fear.

I always wondered if my friends stayed with me because I scared them or because they actually liked me. In a way it was a double edged knife our friendship, I didn't like their teasing and chances are they thought I was psychotic. I tried to be more lighthearted, laughing at their jokes and their teasing, but it was impossible. It was like a part of me was always stuck in the past...stuck with my parents. I was stuck watching the ground come closer and closer as my mother and I toppled from the top of a building. It was hard to move on after that...especially considering I could barely remember anything about what had happened previously. All I had were pieced together memories of a life I wasn't sure I'd actually lived or if I'd made it up. Somewhere in the back of my mind though...something whispered...this is just a joke, you're such a joker. I can honestly say that I almost believed it was all a terrible joke...that I had made it all up...that I was a joker.

Life continued on though, I grew older and more skilled with knives...and my mind grew less and less stable. I loved to see people suffering, but it had to be done in such a way that it made me laugh. Usually I was the mastermind behind some terrible and twisted idea that would hurt people, but not kill them. For a while my friends would laugh with me but after a while...things started to change between us. Their jokes became more harsh as they teased me and my mind...it didn't like being made fun of. They told me I needed to smile at more normal things, that I was to serious unless something was exploding. I took that seriously...so one day...I looked at my reflection in the mirror at the foster home and I told myself..."just...SMILE. I brought the knife to my face and I carved a smile onto my face...a smile that would permanently adorn my face. No one could possibly tell me that I took things to seriously now.

Naturally I had to show my friends, let them know that I was making an effort to take things less seriously...but they were disgusted. They looked at me with a mix of terror and disgust...and I hated them for it. My "friends were showing their true colors to me, at last I was seeing the truth. They began to beat up poor little me, leaving me with a broken nose and a bruised pride, but I would have the last laugh. I took it upon myself to extact revenge on those people who mocked me and hurt me, I would make them understand what it was that I had to go through. I also came ot the decision that I couldn't be cooped up in this place forever, the whole world deserved to be part of my greatest joke. So before I left I sent a little package to each of my friends, something just for them...a little surprise. I had just enough time while I made my mad dash for freedom to hear the explosions go off, and I knew my "friends" had recieved their gifts.

Of course that made escaping terribly difficult considering the whole district knew that it was me that send those little packages. Add that to the fact that I was laughing like a mad man and it was fairly obvious that I wasn't going to get out of here. The Peacekeepers caught me just as I was about to reach freedom, and I was thrown in the detention center to "think" about what I had done. Now we all know what a good boy I am, I complied with all of their demands, answered all of their questions. It was amazing, I didn't sound crazy at all, and I fooled them...heh...the joke was on them. I found it miraculous how easy it was to fool them into believing I was okay in the head. Of course it was at times I found it difficult to keep the facade up...I will admit that at times I wondered if I would survive everything that threw at me. Then again...was I really able to take it...or was a just so nuts that eventually it didn't bother me anymore. After I had been "interrogated" and "tortured" and they got "bored" of me I was released back into the public.

Oh how corrupt our governement is that I was able to have my freedom so soon. Of course freedom is a relative term considering where I was and who ruled over me. So this meant I would be making my next attempt at escape...to REAL freedom. It went perfectly, exactly as I had planned it, so much so that my absense probably wouldn't be recorded for quite some time. I FINALLY had my freedom, I was finally going to be able to do just what I wanted. As is the problem with people who have freedom and everything they've ever dreamed off...I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Where to start, what to do, how to do it...it was all at my finger tips, so tantalizingly close I could taste it. The whole world was at my disposal, the whole world was mine to conquer...there was a whole world that needed to learn that life was just a big joke. Soooooo prepare for the greatest laugh of your life because I'm back baby...I'm back. ahahahahahaahahahahahaha.