Today we are told to compare. Compare and look for similarities and differences. The girl next to me chose to compare a book to a container. Her conclusion was something to do with words and knowledge. Ridiculous, I snorted. The boy next to me compared his brother to his dog. It wasn't of my interest. Nothing is, really. Nothing except you.

What should I compare you to? A flower surrounded by bees? An unreachable beauty that everyone has yet to acknowledge its qualities.

Or perhaps a blue bear in the grip of a child with a distant look? The blue bear wants to be loved by the child but the she only knows of memories of a horrible time, and the bear is a reminder.

You could be compared to a pianist with chopped off fingers. Like the pianist longs to play the piano, you long to be known of, and like the chopped of fingers are an obstacle, the past is also one. The pianist is desperate, he wants to play so much he decides he'll play in heaven. He slits his wrists and is no more. You, however, keep fighting. You are as desperate as you are a fool, which makes you able to continue. As the pianist was haunted even in his dreams you instead visit heaven. A warm mother's embrace and a father's encouraging words.

You could be a fallen angel. An angel who was destined to a beautiful existence, but was allowed into the world at the wrong time. Innocent, but experienced. Loved, but hated. Pure, but dirtied. Your wings have been skinned and you are now unable to fly. Unable to escape.

If you were to be an angel I am a demon. A demon who will continue to seek power and revenge. While you are ignorant of the cruelties of the world, I seek them. I seek the cruelest; you. Who said that angels can't be cruel? They are cruel because they are unreachable to us, to everyone. As we are all born with humanity, some more than others, I shut mine out early while you had yours taken away. Still, there are people among us who are still searching for their humanity, even if it has been swallowed by their actions and choices. You have already accepted that yours is gone.

I sigh and turn slightly to look at you. You're only a few seats away from me, at least you are physically. Mentally, you exist in a completely different world than I. Your paper is blank, like mine, and your eyes are glazed over. Are you trying to shut out the chatter of our classmates? Or are you just tired the stupidity in the world?

Either way, for a moment out eyes connect. You soon avert your eyes and turn back to your paper. You write something down. A word. No, a name. My name. A question comes to my mind when you then try to hide it.

Are you thinking of me as much as I think of you? Similar questions fill my mind. They slide down to my mouth, but I block them. As I do, I cannot help but wonder what you'd answer. My imagination is only so wide I can imagine you smile. Nothing more, nothing less. However, that is unlikely. Just as I haven't smiled at you a single time, you haven't smiled at me.

In the end, the love between the angel and the demon is a thin thread. The thread can easily be cut off and only the one who did it will know of it. The other will continue live, oblivious to the other's feelings.

Perhaps the our thread has already been cut? If it has, I will never know. Even if it was by me. The least I can do is hope that I'll never feel the need to, though we both know that eventually one of us will have to cut it.