So...just my thoughts/ramblings on a certain muse. Also a fairly good example of my essay style, for those curious.

Ah, Light. In one word, Light is repressed. He’s known since he was very young that he was better. Smarter, politer, more attractive…the crème de le crème, the perfect son, student, friend, boyfriend, leader. He’s also known that no one could understand just how different he was. No one could know that while they were admiring him for his intelligence, he was projecting a certain level of intelligence, while his real IQ was far more than “gifted”. He’s a bundle of secrets. Everything about him is a lie. It’s not that he wants to, really, it’s just that if he did try to explain, they wouldn’t understand. Maybe they’d just be too stupid, or maybe they’d try to put him into some special program, single him out, and separate him. And he can’t have that. He needs to be in control.

So, as long as he’s in control of what they see, he’s in control of the people. Everything is neat, polite, friendly, smart. The only place he can truly relax is his room, because there are no people to impress. And even then. There’s the caution. Keeping his computer clean and secure, his room monitored. So really, when the Death Note came along, it was no different. It was right. The power had come to him, because he was the best. Because he would make a better world with it. Just as he had planned since he was very young, when he threw away his teddy bear, claiming “Stuffed animals don’t fight crime!”

And ever since, Light had gotten books for his birthday. Trips to the museum, the library, as treats. Instead of girls, Light was obsessed with law and studies. And as long as it looked normal on the outside, Light was fine with that. That was how he wanted it to be.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

And then L had to mess things up. Slowly, he found himself more and more drawn to his enemy. Kira’s enemy. Was he capable of being a worthy opponent? Was this odd, aggravating man, the only one who could truly understand him? That was unsettling. Exciting. Exhilarating. Frightening. Enticing.

After L’s death, Light was left with extreme grief, and extreme satisfaction. He was the best. Everything was back in control now. There was only one, and that was how it was meant to be. But at what cost? The loss of any chance of romance, attraction? The loss of a friend, someone that actually could empathize? The loss of a challenge? Loss. In the end, it was all about loss.

Sometimes, the benefits of an outcome outweighed the loss, and then it was profitable. The most horrible thing was, though, Light couldn’t, for once, weigh this. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t put it into numbers, behaviours, statistics, logic. Grief. Grief over victory.

It made no sense. And that, that one loose thread, one piece of unfinished business that could never be finished, the question without an answer, the speck of dirt that wouldn’t come off, the memory that couldn’t be suppressed, the look on L’s face when he died, when his last tie to the world, to himself, died, was when Light’s sanity slipped. It’s not like it had far to fall, after all.


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