Much like the loneliness that never left, anger was abundant. It scared me, the sheer amount of it all. It made me think of how far I could be pushed until I didn’t care about anything other than setting the hellfire inside of me free. It was the kind of maddening feeling that makes your chest shake, your jaw clench, and forces you to shut your eyes so you can think straight. It wasn’t as simple as a steady darkness in my heart, no- that I could control. It was something much more powerful, a primal force that just felt...
right. Some part of me knew that letting my anger out wouldn’t help anything, but that same voice echoed that it didn’t care.
Anger is one of the strongest emotions that we as humans can feel, it’s the opposite of love. Most people think that hate is, but those of us who have felt pure, righteous anger know something different. It begs to be let loose, to be used until it is gone. All I wanted right then was to give in, let go, damned be the consequences. I could feel the fire welling up in my chest with every thought, every breath.
I could literally feel the sparks at my fingertips, and my vision was blurred. My jaw was tight, and my fists were clenched beyond white knuckles as I rumbled out, “Get. Out.
Now.”
"A lesson without pain is meaningless, for you cannot gain something without first sacrificing something in return. But once you have overcome it and made it you're own...
You will gain an irreplaceable Full-Metal Heart."
- Full Metal Alchemist, Chapter 108
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I just finnished the final chapter of the FMA manga on
One Manga.com and loved every second of it.
I love seeing characters grow and learn, especially when you grow with them. It is one of my favorite things about literature. Falling in love with imaginary people who you can relate to so much that they cease to be imaginary. They become a part of you, and live throughout your actions.
That's how you can tell great writing from just good writing. When you care so much about what and how something happens to the person (or non-person) that you live with them, and learn through each page. That's the true Fullmetalness.
I hope to create a Fullmetal character one day, but more so than that, I hope that Dean can become one. But one day at a time :)
Anyway, great story. Period. Thank you Hiromu Arakawa for the 9 great years of Full Metal Alchemist.
So tonight, instead of talking about my day or whatever it is you're
supposed to talk about in these things, I'll introduce you to Dean. He's a lot of things to me. He's me sometimes, others he's every friend I've had, once upon a time; he was my imaginary friend. But more than any of those things, he's a Guardian. If you're interested in what I mean by that, then I invite you to keep checking in on me, and him.
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I stared out from my rooftop as the sun neared the horizon, not a thought held in my head. I held my watch in my hands, opening and closing it absentmindedly. Warm Texas winds sifted around and above me, the last thermals carrying some sparrows up and away. I heard some scratching, and then Mal was next to me. He just sat there with me for a while, his purplish grey coat catching some of the sun's intense Spartan red rays. I saw him turn his small head to me, his golden eyes burrowing into my cheek. Without a word though, he turned back.
"You want to talk about what happened back there?" He asked neutrally. I didn't, but I knew that he wouldn't go away until I had. He sat there while I decided whether to answer him or not. His tail flicked impatiently.
"There was nothing you could have done Dean, you have to-"
"Tell that to her grave." I shot back, but there wasn't any conviction in it.
He snorted, but didn't press any further.
"I...I just don't get how she could have lost herself that much."
"She was looking for answers on who she was. On what was happening to her and why. She was just lost, and he gave answers to her."
“That’s a load of horse shit Mal, you and I both know that. You can’t go looking to someone else to find your self worth. You find it on your own. It doesn't mean a damn thing if it's handed to you, no matter who it's from. That’s what it means to find who you are.”
There was silence, but I saw the stupid cat smile.“So?...Who are you?”
It was my turn to smirk, and I coughed out a small laugh. “Hell Mal, I’m only seventeen, I don't have a clue.” I paused and looked out over my city, the final purple rays of the setting sun washing over the buildings and sky. I stood up, stuffing my pocket watch back into my coat. “But I have an idea of who I want to be. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
