i've never understood why you like me, it's not like i'm a good or interesting person. i can't understand or express any emotion, and it's not like i'm that intelligent. maybe you just feel sorry for me. maybe that's the only reason you agreed to staying in my home for the night. you probably only needed a ride to school or something along the lines of that... do you actually like me? many tear-causing thoughts run through my head as i stare at the blank ceiling of my bedroom, the fan whirling around on a high setting. a bolt of lightning strikes the earth, a loud rumble reverberates through the house.

faint echos of voices bounce off the walls of my skull, thanking you for being so, what most humans call, kind. demons prance and lurk around my bed, screeching each time i close my eyes. they're like this almost every night. sometimes i have to make deep slits in my skin, just to make them stop. my very own suffering is what silences them. yet, tonight, it was different. closing my eyes, i don't hear the usual screeches, i hear faint footsteps downstairs. i can feel you moving around.

we're complete opposites, really. you can see and bring out the brightness in the world while i can only see black and gray. you have many friends while i only have one, and that's you. you're an emotional person while i can barely feel at all. the only thing that we have in common is the way we walk. our footsteps are like the beat to a slow, graceful song. 1... 2... 3... 4... in my head, i count each footstep as if they were rhythms in an elegant song. 1... 2 and... 3... 4... i notice that you start slowing down, nearly sagging your feet as you try not to be heard. 1... 2... 3 and... 4 and... floorboards creak under your weight as you walk back and forth through the house.

a subtle 'a' is whispered by the piano, a result of you running your fingers over the keys. that piano is one of the few things that i enjoy, other than you, of course. most people would call it a soothing activity for me, playing the piano. you've always loved the sound of pianos, but you could never figure out how to play it. maybe that's another reason you like me so much... my piano skills must be what attracted you to me. after all, we met before my piano recital all those years ago... 1 and... 2 and... you stop, and my breath hitches, thinking that one of the demons got to you, but who am i to blame them? once i hear the gentle sound of piano keys singing out notes, i release my breath, thankful that you're okay. you must feel so relaxed... i want to join you.

i recall the time that you tried to teach me what feelings were. each time i thought that i felt something for once, i'd ask you what it was. "joy," you'd say with a pleasant smile. "fear," you'd say in a concerned voice. when i asked you what the tear-causing emotion that made me feel cold and made my heart sink was, you'd say nothing. instead, you'd wrap your arms around me, pressing your warm body against my own. i'm yet to learn what that emotion is.

once i gather enough enough courage, i rise out of my bed, gentle groans and squeaks leaving the mattress. i'm going to join you. as i step down the stairs, i count the slow, steady pace of my footsteps. 1... 2... 3... 4... cautious steps show that they don't want you to hear. 1... 2... 3... 4... my feet are about to touch the floorboards of the downstairs living area. the cold boards against my feet send a shiver throughout my body. where did this cold come from? i hadn't felt it earlier... maybe it's just that "fear" you were talking about.

i draw close to the piano, and a child grabs my shirt, stopping me in my tracks. his face is innocent, but his eyes are cold and glazed over, almost like he was supposed to be dead. this child causes a disturbance deep within me... the boy opens his mouth and speaks to me. "How does it feel?" what is he talking about? a frown tugs at the corners of the boy's lips. "You must know what i'm talking about." as soon as i hear those words, a shiver cascades down my spine. "h-how?" i stutter out. is this boy apart of me?

"How does it feel to completely lose your sense of self, your personality, and your irony to become sincerity? To become the thing you needed most?" the boy murmurs out to me. i do not understand these words... "excuse me?" those words ring out into the silence of the night. "Look," i watch as the boy gestures to the mirror. in a slightly confused state, i wander over to the said item and peer into it. "what am i lookin-?"cutting myself off, i notice that you are not in the mirror. where did you go? i turn and see you. you look up at me, smile, and return to pressing the keys of the piano as delicately as possible.

looking back into the mirror, i finally realize what the child was telling me. i am you, and you are me. a trembling hand reaches up to my face and places itself on my cheek. it is both mine and yours. i stare at our reflection for just a little longer. "sadness," i whisper under my breath as a tear rolls down my cheek. that feeling you wouldn't tell me? i remember what it is, now, and it feels as cold as ever.