I don�t know how I came to write this, but I think it had something to do
with extreme boredom.  I guess that�s pretty cool, seeing as I really like
it, but I�d like you all to tell me what you think, anyway.  

I don�t legally own any of this stuff.


+++++

	I look to my right.  Jet is busy with his trees again.  Should�ve
guessed.  I walk the rest of the way to my room, not caring that my bathrobe
is open.  There�s no one to see, anyway.  There hasn�t been anyone but Jet
and I on the Bebop since�that�s why I�m so depressed today.  Two years ago
today Spike died, the damn fool.  
I shuck off my bathrobe and reach for my clothes.  Spike.  What a selfish
bastard.  Going off and getting killed like that.  If he weren�t dead I�d
kill him myself.  I stop buttoning up the tight yellow top I prefer to wear.
Damnit, Spike. I loved you.  
I shake my head, determined not to cry again.  I�ve only really cried three
times since I was thawed out - when Whitney �Died,� when Spike died, and on
the one year anniversary of Spike�s death - and I�m not gonna do it again.
Not over Spike.  I�ve shed more tears over that man than I should have.
Besides, how many times was he rude or mean to me?  Even when he was coming
to rescue me he was downright nasty.  Like that time Vicious captured me,
when I was searching for Mao Yenrai, not knowing he was already dead.
�Don�t worry,� he said, �I�m not coming to save you.�
	I notice with not a little revulsion that I�m hugging my knees to my
chest, my back to one of the corners in my room, tears running down my face.
�Damn you, Spike,� I whisper as I recall the last time I saw him.  �I�m
going to see if I was ever alive,� he said, and I just let him walk away.
Oh, I emptied my gun, hoping to scare him into staying, but you could never
scare Spike, no you couldn�t.  So I cried, like I am now, and let him go off
and get killed by his own past.
	Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from that.  Because Spike
couldn�t let go of his past, it killed him.
	No, I�ve been TRYING to get rid of my past for a while, now, and it
has come close to killing me on several occasions.  �Damn collection
agencies,� I mutter, wiping my eyes.
	Well, whatever the case, I know one thing: I will never let the past
- anyone�s past - get in the way of my happiness again.
	I stand up and finish fastening the buttons on my top.  Taking a few
moments to compose myself, I walk out the door, my new resolution fresh in
my mind.

+++++

It�s short, and it�s strange, but tell me what you think, anyway.  I�d
really appreciate it.


A Depraved Sociopath with Psychotic Tendencies

Humanity: A Haiku
Tiny floating leaf
Calmly drifting on water
Under mushroom clouds


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