The walk to school was rather uneventful. Sometimes it's the peace within these times that makes them the best of all. Sam was surprisingly quiet...did she realize just why I sighed? Why was her divinity so obvious to me, yet so inscrutable to the public world! It seemed as though even she did not know of her own grace! But that would be...impossible...right? When she was born, the world must have entered a Golden Age, right? Why did it seem that this Millenium was so centralized? And now so void...

I tried to gaze upon her beauty once more...the combination of two suns overpowered my need with ultimate pain. Another cloak. Another sigh. Another quip. But I did not heed her words this time, I merely watched her mouth form its words. I was happiest here, when the shield was down. Even when pain came with it. It had become a sort of aphrodisiac. So messed up, and so perverted. But I didn't care. I was accustomed to these thoughts.

When she was done reproving me, I meandered through time to the place where we met. Where we really met, not just a meaningless greeting... That had been a much longer time ago, too far back for me to remember.

I recalled that day: the first day of sixth grade. I had nowhere to sit, and neither did she. We sat and talked and ate, but nothing else. The next day, she had moved on to better people. After a few months, I too found some friends. This task had boiled down to one over the years: Jeremy. All others have faded into the depressing state of an aquaintance: uncaring and so very far above you.

The process was repeated again on the advent of each semester, when lunches changed and people would sit at different tables until they became situated again. Each day was the same, yet I looked forward to them all. Outside of those times, she did naught but hang out with her other friends and bully me. I grew to despise her; I didn't know anything about her. Only that she liked to eat. And that was nothing.

I knew her name, but I had scarce information on everything else. It was around that time when I met Carly. Carly was always with Sam; their friends became aquaintances too.

But Carly would speak to me. She would speak to me. She would ask my advice. She would give me half-hearted compliments. She even told me I was handsome once. She constantly teased me; I'm too gullible.

Carly toyed with me. But she spoke to me. And eventually the attention, the normalcy, and the promise of a good friend's support won me over. I realized that I liked her. And while I stalked her, I slowly elicited a goddess from within the beast: the man from the minotaur (or rather the woman from the minotaur-ess).

I suppose they aren't very good friends, but they do try, which is more than my other friends ever did. That is good enough for me.

We had reached the school...I could delve no further. But I didn't really want to. I didn't want to pick out all the wrong things. All the wrong things were already there, already present. I didn't need more...not in them. They must remain flawless...they are and will forever be flawless...infallible...omnipotent...invincible. My heart would break.

Hope is very fragile, and I, sadly, had none. None save a sliver--not even a sliver but a glimmer--no a drop--no the smallest speck of light you could pick out with a telescope if you aimed it within the blackness of space. Very little. And that's what Sam was. Without her, I was finished. I didn't want to risk it; I didn't want to take such a foolhardy task. It would never work.

School passed. He didn't pay any attention to it. It was long and boring and full of people whom knew everything and could never be wrong. But there were only two people in the world who could fit that category. The others were just arrogant. I was half-asleep through most of the classes. I still made it out okay, I suppose.

I went into my room and pulled out my lucky pen cap. Knives were messy. Pen caps could be used again and again without any blood seeping out...it would sit there within the cuts.

Truthfully, it does nothing but take the edge off. The pain afterwards calms me down. I would do it on my legs because arms are too visible. Then I would go to the bathroom and observe my handiwork. If it was deep or numerous, I couldn't help but call it beautiful and derive a sense of strange pride from it.

No one knows. I don't want them to know. I really do, but it would be far too troublesome. It's hard enough to hide it from my mom.