nothing else but my heart's desire [COLLECTION] | FINISHED

Dear diary... - BATMAN/GOTHAM INSPIRED PROSE

Dear diary, today was an ordinary day. I'd wake up and breathe, eat breakfast and relax. I'd leave to run errands, I'd head to work to earn my way to a better life, all in the hopes that life shall turn around and I shall be granted all that I had ever wanted. But what use is it? What use do I have for such material goods, so devoid of meaning as I search for purpose in a world which only cares about the shallow and superficial? I wish it all away, I hope to lie down in the grass and watch as the world passes me by. Just me, by myself, watching the world like a scene from a movie, as the audience which never interacts with the actors before them, consuming it all, as I have had to sit with the knowledge that I shall never be a part of the world as it is now, in this moment, and for all time. Diary, today was an ordinary day, I woke up and sighed, I breathed in the day like it was my last, and I ate my breakfast, ran my errands and went to work just like any other day, but it was not any other day, or at least it was a day in which I could no longer ignore the knot forming, residing always in my stomach, as I headed towards the bridge overlooking the vast stretch of ocean, connecting our small island city to the mainland, as small as a city could be, as the metropolis overshadowed that of the relatively small, but equally pitiful sight of the lives beyond these murky shores. I recall climbing over the iron rails, as the late night moon cast its secretive, mysterious glow upon the city below. It was cold, and I felt the weight of my decision dragging me further down towards the icy water below. Still, I kept my grip for the moment, wondering, as someone might if they were in my shoes, if I was making the right decision; with no one to talk to, that I trust, I had thought that my previous journal entry, in which I detailed my despair as acutely as possible, would be my last, as I prepared for such an eventuality. Why wouldnt I? Why does it matter if I'm still here, when nothing seems to change? Still an orphan, still left in the dark, only to come alive at night as all outcasts do, still without friend and with far too many foes, I am lost, I was lost, but a hand reached out then, boney, scrawny, yet with an icy confidence I saw in myself as I might have done with another, had the shoe been on the other foot. He knew I wouldnt jump, and he was right, as I turned to face the stranger, telling him in no less words to leave me alone and to mind his own business. He wore green, so bright and bold it was, it was hard to believe he was the criminal of riddles I had heard about on the news. Question mark symbols littered his suit, as a hood and eye mask purposefully obscured his face, save for a smile, menacing, yet, in its own way, reassuring, for I saw something I often saw in myself, as I recognised my own dissatisfaction and discontent in his words and mannerisms. "Its a long way down, young man, you sure you can swim?" "What's it to you anyway? Get lost." "Hey, you cant blame a guy for wanting to be a good samaritan. I was just thinking you might know a way to help me, and maybe I can help you too." "Help me how?" He smirked then, before continuing to speak. "You dont seem like the type to do something like this, what makes a young man, with his whole life in front of him want to just throw it all away?" I didnt answer, so he continued. "I believe discontent lies in all the hearts of this city's people, and its up to us to make them see that. He reached out a hand, I didnt move, and willed him to leave. What does he know about discontent? "What is your point? Cant you see I'm busy?" "Oh my boy, we're all busy. I'm a busy man, and I have seen all the errands you run just to put food on the table." He had had me followed, and likely knew far more than I realised, but part of me wasnt fearful of what he'd do with such information. He needed a thief as part of his enterprise, though money mattered very little to me at the time, I remembered, instead, what I had seen on the news of his exploits, as he presented himself, not just in that moment, but in each moment afterwards, as a force to be reckoned with, as a way to shine the spotlight right back at the city's elites, though I wasnt sure how it would be done, it surely would, it surely would. "What do you have to lose? What more can they take away from you? Don't you want to stand for something before you take that final plunge?" I breathed out slowly, glancing down at the treacherous, rocky waters below; I imagined the dark, lonely abyss just beyond, waiting to swallow me whole, in my mind's eye, and turned back to the stranger before me, his hand still remained as the lifeline I needed to pull myself back from the edge. I reached out and took his hand, he helped lift me over the rails, before I collapsed on the asphalt, on my knees. I felt the overwhelming urge to break down into tears of joy and sadness, such a confusing feeling it was, as I heard cars rushing by the two of us. As the first of the tears fell, and my short black hair stuck to my forehead due to adrenaline and sweat, the same hand which had pulled me back to safety from certain death handed me a handkerchief to dry my eyes. I took it and muttered a thank you, his expression hadnt changed much, though, when he knelt down before me, he did have this wild-eyed grin on his face, as if to say that we were friends now, that we would surely be working together, and, oddly enough, I found myself smiling back. "I guess this makes us partners then, Mister..?" He held up his hand as if to stop me by speaking further, before holding it out to shake my own. "You can call me Eddie, but this city," He gestured around him, to the metropolis of wealth and poverty, crime and luxury, which stood just beyond, before returning to shake my hand. "This city knows me as Riddler." I took his hand without question. "Samuel Kyle." And so, here I sit, pen in hand, in the secret headquarters of the criminal enterprise which operates in the seedy underbelly of the city, as my life had begun to change so drastically, but what more can I do? I have to believe that things will change, because I dont want to end up hanging by a thin thread, loose and unstable, ready to snap at any given moment, just to fall from that same bridge as I had planned. What more can I lose, that I havent already lost, diary? What more?

Yours, until I'm not,

S. Kyle