Somehow

In a perfect, calm, kind world.

Naruto had parents who supported him, who loved and cared about him as a person and not what his position in society or how well-kept his reputation was.

I didn't.

Sasuke had something to look forward to when he came home, a kind mother, a strict but at the end of the day loving father, and an amazing older brother.

I didn't.

Kiba was a social butterfly, he had friends everywhere he went, people adored him.

I didn't.

Sakura's opinion was valued and taken into account.

Mine wasn't.

Shikamaru was able to relax as he played Shogi with Asuma or just stared at clouds with Choji.

I wasn't.

Ino was respected and loved, who couldn't love her cute, dimpled grin and her knowledge wide variety on so many types of plants and flowers.

I wasn't.

Kumo nin came into my room one night to abduct me, greeding over me for my eyes. I shrieked in terror as he slowly curled his fingers around my neck, securing them tightly and surely leaving bruises. I gagged and coughed, my body begging and pleading for air desperately.

I sobbed and hiccuped pathetically as this continued for a moment before footsteps scurried their way up the stairs and flung open the door, I glanced up to see tall, indistinct and all quite frighteningly similar appearing  Hyuuga men beginning to reprimand the culprit.

He escaped out of my window without a trace.

My father made a deal with Kumo, he would die at the hands of the Raikage's second in command.

It was to ensure the safety of the clan and the Byakugan.

My uncle insisted on taking his place, for my fatherwas the clan's future! They were twins and there was no way they could tell the difference, save for the mark. It was ineffable!

My father died that next morning.

His head was cleanly sliced off as blood began spurting out of his decapitated head, his eyes rolled out to the back of his head and his tongue lolled out in a disgusting manner.

Neji was sad and was absolutely terrified, however I said nothing.

Not one tear.

Not one sob.

Not one indication of misery or sadness.

I was forever silent, for I could not express the extent of depression and guilt and pity for myself weighed down upon my shoulders.

Because I knew, somehow, somewhere, that the world would end eventually and nobody would be there to care about our puny little lives and our puny little quarrels and the small things we decided were revolutionary and unbelievably huge--

For we all die some day, and nobody will care because they will too.