I used to feel things.

I used to feel my heart beating in my chest consistently and without ceasing. I used feel energized in the rays of the sun and I'd be rejuvenated when rain would fall on me. I'd be at total peace at the sight of sunflowers swaying so gently in the breeze in sweet serenity that humans hardly ever get to experience. I'd live in these moments and treasure them. It meant something to me: not enough, though, what with the patchwork heart I was forced to scrape together from broken pieces, but I could still process these feelings. Now, however, I no longer feel much of anything.

I miss the days when my life still had meaning, a purpose, a definition. I stand in the sun and let its warmth radiate through me, yet I still remain cold. The temporal world can no longer do for me what it used to. I sometimes wonder if I would've been better off if fate wasn't tampered with.

I can shed tears, but I cannot cry, for I need not any means of such an expression when I have nothing there to express initially. I can smile, though I feel no joy. I used to wish, in my darkest hours, for numbness, and now I'd do anything to have ambition again.

But then I saw him.

Something stirred in me, a beast on the brink of starvation, dying to get out. Something else, too; butterflies, creatures I thought abandoned me long ago, returned to my stomach to flutter so hastily. I could detect yet another thing, which made this more things than I'd felt in so long, and it was intrigue. It is rare for me to be curious.

Although the color blue arouses familiarity in me, as it always has, it is different this time. My soul — well, whatever is left of it — could tell that this was more than just my average run-of-the-mill twinge of something. Oh no — this was the start something big. Huge even.

I buried my gloved hand in my large pocket and clutched a purple piece of fabric nested comfortably in there. I knew what this thing bubbling up from inside was. It was recognition. This person's appearance reminded me of a person I love dearly…my sister. And if there was anyway to get off to a good start with me, they'd already done it.

I took a large swing from the bottle of vodka, disappointed as it didn't burn me. I asked myself if I should speak to them, if I should let them walk away and not think of them again. Then, before I could decided if I was going to speak or what I'd say, they said something.

"Hey, dude, can I have some of that?"