• Mamori_Tsukino's Gallery
  • View Profile
  • Send Private Message
  • Artist Info:
    ╔═.♥.═══════════╗<br />
    <br />
    MamoriTsukino<br />
    <br />
    ╚═══════════.♥.═╝
    <br />
    Perfection
    <br />
    <br />
    I'm Mamori... and everything sucks. <br />
    <br />
    So, like, not to dump my life story on you or anything but if you wanna know me there's some things you gotta, uhm, know. Or...or somebody, actually. <br />
    <br />
    So, I got here, the institute I'm currently confined in, because my parents and my teachers figured I was a teensy bit crazy...I guess they were right then. But then I got better, I got pills and therapy or whatever and was fine, completely fuckin' fine! I was loving life the best I could and eagerly anticipating my freedom, where I could walk without the nurses watching me, I could eat food with a 'sharp' object like a knife and fork, I would be able to smile at people and they wouldn't think I was going to hurt them...<br />
    <br />
    Then this guy showed up, called himself Pocket and enticed me with his stories of how we used to be friends, how he was the reason I was here, the imaginary friend I confided in my Mum about, the one I couldn't get to stop talking. I was confused and scared but I knew I couldn't control him, that's why I came here, I was learning and-had so far succeeded- in controlling and quieting thoughts and images like him. <br />
    <br />
    He's sneaky. He tags along inside my shadow, whispers things to me that I wonder if anyone else can hear. He tells me they may just assume it's all coming from my own lips, so I'm paranoid, and find it hard to leave my room. I stay alone, besides for Pocket, locked in my room and huddled in a corner when I dare get out of bed. <br />
    <br />
    I try to make him shut up, I use every trick I've been taught to try and quell his ramblings, his mocking, taunting fun-loving self. <br />
    <br />
    But the more he's with me and shows off what he can do with those ghastly powers of his, the less I can see that hope I once held so tightly, the less I think I am Mamori Tsukino and the more I begin to think I'm Pocket.
  • Avg. rating: