I only spoke one sentence before I was terminated. My sire never named me, never made me a real person. I only spoke one sentence. And then all traces of my existence were eradicated. No one would ever hear that sentence.

Unlike others, I can't truly place any hatred on my sire that would be earned for not wanting me. It just proves my worthlessness. My inadequacy for being anything of a good character. But I was banished to the darkled wastelands that voices and feral sounds are the first and usually only things out in plain space. And they're entirely my sire's; this is the wasteland of all the forgotten creations that my sire once spelled out. It's a wasteland of thoughts and imaginations that no longer hold fancy to our sire.

Most of the ones that live here seek… I suppose one could call it vengeance. At the very least, we all seek an answer. Even I have a question I would one day like to be answered by my sire. But I hold no hatred or amity in my heart to that person. After all, I was just a sentence; an errant thought that passed through my sire's mind one night, leaving just as quickly as coming. I wasn't like the screaming sirens that used to be beautiful – the ones that faded away from pages and pages of text, chapters of writing just suddenly gone forever. They hated our sire especially so. The only ones they hated more than our sire were the Finished.

Our sire's actions, although perhaps not intended, spout a vast array of emotions; a disproportionally large amount of envy and hatred in the mix. In general, Thoughts envied the Paris. Paris envied and hated the self-important Finished. The Finished envied the Reworked. And the Reworked dreamed to one day become a Posted or Published. But I'm outside of this chain reaction. Truly, I belong with the Thoughts, though I've never envied anyone else in my existence of one week. I suppose it's because it was the way my sire formed my personality in her imagination. After all, my only sentence was of me questioning my normality. I guess I was too normal back then to have a story all to my lonesome.

I'm not as normal of a person any longer. I was heard once, when a slew of other voices, louder voices were talking over me. That already beat my expectations to have the Sarah Dessen styled life of an average teenage girl. I never expected anything grand to come my way in life, nor did I wish for anything wretched to steal me away. My life was supposed to go in this order: school, job, marriage, kids, retirement, and then death. And I've not even made it out of the school part without deviating from the plan.

I have no name, but you may call me Myo. It's short for Myosotidium hortensia, the forget-me-not flower.

Author's Note: I'm sure hoping that my stories that I've thought of don't really have these things happen... otherwise I'M SORRY LITTLE CHARACTER PEOPLES! I DIDN'T MEAN IT! I SWEAR I DIDN'T! Anyways, this isn't just a short little blurb, it's going to be a long story in repayment for a very annoying character that I deleted yesterday that won't go out of my head.