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FIC Diary of a Wolveine

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  • Wolf Whitewater
    Title: Diary of a Wolverine Author: Wolf Whitewater Rating: PG (It s Wolverine, I don t think anything he s involved in is going to be G!) Character(s):
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 17, 2004
      Title: Diary of a Wolverine
      Author: Wolf Whitewater
      Rating: PG (It's Wolverine, I don't think anything he's involved in is going to be G!)
      Character(s): Logan's Brain
      Warnings: None, unless you have issues peeking into other people's heads
      Disclaimers: Standard
      Feedback: Yes, please! email or post, I don't care
      Archive: Ask first



      Once, upon a time, I am sure I had a quiet, normal, peaceful life. I didn't have people constantly shadowing me with dart guns, bombs, impossibly beautiful female trap-bait and offers they are sure I can't refuse, trying to get me back or attempting to lure me in, and I'm pretty sure there was a stage in there somewhere that didn't involve physical stasis. Because of my mutation, I don't think I can ever grow old, but nobody is sure about that. I regenerate, so nobody knows how old I am, how old I'm likely to get, how many times I've been hurt, or killed. The only thing anybody knows for sure is that I have been held here, like a photograph, at the peak of my physical existence.

      Sometimes that can get pretty damn lonely. Sure, there are girls here and there, and I can drink all the booze, eat whatever I want, never have to worry about death via a heart attack or the other ravages of a body's system deciding it can't handle life anymore, but all I remember is dodging bullets and swords and lasers and other weapons of destruction, not always successfully, and always coming back, even if I have to harrow hell and death first, however briefly.

      I am Wolverine, and I always come back. I am the original bad penny, the mold that was broken. I beg, sometimes, to die of a heart attack. To get old age dementia and forget what I was like when I was young. Because that would mean that it was finally over, that I was dying in my bed like you're supposed to. I always come back, even when I don't want to.

      I have accepted the unique and often irritating facts of my life. I won't die, not permanently. I will outlive any woman I fall in love with, and I will always be alone. I will watch my friends and lovers take the last long walk and I will be unable to follow. There is much in my life I've had to shoulder, burdens too heavy for people who aren't me. But I can't carry that knowledge and so I am forever alone. I am called a loner, a machine, a weapon, a man unable to form bonds with others. That is not true. It is a choice I have had to make, even as I had to choose to live. I could not kill myself, no matter how hard I tried, and so the alternative - the only one-- was to live. I am not strong enough to watch my true love grow old and die, and I am not strong enough to watch my friends watch me forever held back from death, and so I make the choice. It is the hardest thing I have had to do.

      And so, they call me a wolf without a pack, a wild man, crazy, whose only emotion is rage. I figure I have a right to be angry. I didn't sign up for this life-I was drafted into it against my will. From the first I have had the ability to chose taken away from me. My life is defined by six spikes of metal that come out of my hands, and a regeneration mutant power I have no control over. I was exiled from the human race before I had a chance to truly enter it. I die daily, on the inside, watching humanity from my mutant box. Is it any wonder I snap sometimes, and go off to be alone, where I can pretend I really am alone? Where I do not have to constantly be reminded of what I can never have? Wouldn't you get pretty messed up in the head if you had to live as I?

      I am Wolverine, and that means me.

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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