It's a drabble! Run and hide! Well, I was bored, and I was telling my friend what I had done last night. I wrote this, and then I realized I could make it into a ZADR thing if I changed Eric and he into you and us. That, and 5th to 4th grade. Hey, if the shoe fits.

Oh, and I'm doing the before hand thing after this. I felt like writing the note, then doing the events.

Yes, it's choppy. I realize that. You can flame me for it, but I seriously won't care. I've gotten yelled at for expressing myself before. The only difference with flames is that the flamer thinks some pixels will change your mind on how to live.

Now, onto the note!

I went outside a while ago. No one set the alarm, and our door isn't loud anymore. I took my cellphone and walked for 15 minutes. Only one streetlight was on. It was just me and the wind that kept making me mad. Why is it that the wind is so dramatic? Well, it was making my legs cold- but not really. I told you how I don't really feel emotionally anymore, right? Well, I'm now convinced I can't feel pain, either. I stepped on a pointed rock and didn't realize it until I reached the only working streetlight.

I was thinking about everything- no, anything- I could have done better with you. I was just walking in the dark, thinking as the stupid wind whacked my legs. I'm not sure I wanted to know where I was headed. I'd walked my neighborhood so many times, my feet led me instead of my mind. I know where every curb, every tree, and every unpaved bit of road are. I went over to Keef's old house and leaned back on the tree.

I continued thinking as the wind whipped my hair unto my neck and cheeks. It seemed like it was telling me to go home before I did something eccentric.

Before I knew it, I was singing. I don't remember the words, but the melody is nice. I'm humming it right now. I do remember me thinking about you and how hard it is for me to say your name. I thought about all the possibilities and improbabilities that may never happen now. Oh, well. You can't change fate.

Then I thought about fate and what a fraud it is. Fate is only there so people can blame something when they lose control of their life- or someone takes it from them in eight small words.

"It's not like you want me here, anyway."

Eight little, normally insignificant words made me realize I loved you. Or, so I thought. I wished I could relive the entire 4th grade, make it to where I would never have to cry over us. I wished I could control the wind, make it stop chilling me and force it to carry eight words back to you.

"It's not like I wanted you to leave."

I felt something cold and empty run down my cheek, leaving a bit of it everywhere in it's path. I tilted my head up to find that it wasn't raining.