His hair was a wheat field on a windy afternoon. The darkness outside had crept into my body and nuzzled me. I submitted to its mysterious powers and lost sight of myself. I was a hollow shell numb to my surroundings; I couldn’t even feel the knife anymore. Was I even alive? I could smell him, a combination of air after a cleansing rain and clothes straight from the dryer. I hadn’t been able to use my senses for weeks but now his warmth filled my shell and suddenly I could hear my heartbeat.

My perfect grades were gone now, a sign of my resignation. My tenacious attitude disappeared after my acquiescence to lachrymosity. Without the courage to kill myself I became a living dead. He struck up a conversation with me one day, something about the band on my shirt. Unfortunately I forgot what music was. I told him so politely and walked on. Walking, I was doing a lot of that these days. The rhythm of my feet stepping each step one after another was calming. I was beyond placid.

My father and I never looked at each other anymore. We didn’t look at anything anymore. They were all just reminders. When I was younger I always wanted a dog, a pet of my own. I would take care of her and we would love each other. My parents gave me a goldfish instead. I never liked her until now. Swimming in circles, trapped in a little bowl. We all are trapped.

He still tried to talk to me, everyday now and everyday I would politely reject his attempts at conversing. I don’t know why he kept trying, did he think I was playing hard to get? Unfortunately I’m impossible to get. I love rain. I like how it won’t come for awhile testing all of the plants characters and then right when every plant is on the verge of extinction, having finally reached the acceptance of their death then the rain will come just like that. And lift them up and nurture their leaves till they must go on, even if they were ready to go.

I was sure I didn’t need other humans to accompany me, but maybe I was wrong because soon I stopped rejecting His attempts. I would listen. And after few weeks I could even understand what he was saying. He was good at talking. His words would melt on me, permeate through every layer of my skin and then in liquid form fill my stomach up and give me fuel for the rest of the day. I liked the way his pink lips would form every vowel perfectly, o’s were my favorite. One day I told him this. He smiled and I walked away.

My dad was fired; I guess pity only keeps your job for so long. I didn’t care we didn’t need money. No one watched TV or turned on any lights anyway. We barely ate too; sometimes I would go for days without any food. I think He noticed this because after awhile everyday someone would leave a pbj sandwich in my locker. I would take it home eat half and leave the other half on the counter for my father.

He and I became closer, sometimes I would talk too, not often though. One time when I was taking a walk at night he drove by I didn’t notice him, I don’t notice anything during my walks. But he stopped at the nearest drive way parked and got out. He walked to me silently. I’m glad he didn’t talk this time. This way I could focus on the sound of my feet compared to his. Suddenly I stopped, so did he. I fell down everything was spinning. I hadn’t been eating for a long time because I remembered I hate pbj. I stay on the ground for a long time and when everything goes back to normal I notice he’s laying there beside me looking up at the stars. His eyes sparkle and his breathing is so nice, I like it when other people breathe. His eyes seem to shine brighter and brighter by the second. I guess things need darkness to shine.