Pale

I have no idea why I did this. I guess normal people would say "I can't believe I'm doing this". But I can believe this. After all, I heard myself say it with my own ears.

Okay, that's probably not the best argument, considering that I'm living proof that everything you see and hear isn't what you think it is.

I guess I should explain myself. Normally, I would say sorry in advance and go on about how horrible I am at explaining things.

And that's just it. I'm done with the old me. I vaguely remember the girl I used to be, it's all hazy memories. But I know that the old me apologized for things she didn't cause. The old me pointed out every flaw and zoomed it on it with the microscope of my mind.

This writing isn't crystal clear, but it's not supposed to be. I'm not aiming to impress anyone, that ship sailed before I even had the chance to see it. This letter might come in use someday. In fact, I know the date it will become useful, but it will never reach paper. Not yet.

I would start out with my name. Would. I don't have one. Not that I need one. Not a soul has asked for it, not even my own.

So, back to the thing I have no idea about. It's simple in every complicated way. If I were to tell you about myself, the silence would answer for me. I don't talk. I have no reason to. But for the first time, another one spoke to me.

It wasn't in school, that would have been a funny joke. It was long after school, during my favorite hours. When the moon rises and light fades, along with the pain of identities. Others are invisible children unmasked like myself. Only I choose not to talk to the others.

The shadow approached me from behind and poked my shoulder with a long pointed finger. I jumped about 10 feet and found myself coughing. I stared into the eyes of another; trying to stop trembling. I was a coward. Was. I realized that my 'new person' transformation' wasn't completed over night. Shaking off fear isn't easy, but it's easier when you don't lie or apologize. But I'm far from devine.

The man told me his name, but it's not important to you. You'll surely disregard it. I didn't know how to get the sound to flow from my lips, but I did know to gladly accept a smoke from him. The smile from soaring high in the sky is still stuck.

But my next actions puzzled me. I asked to run. With sound, and feeling, syllables and all. And I've just got this feeling, deep down in my gut, that I'm going to regret them.

But after all, I've got no idea.