She heard the smooth flow of water,
Like silk running down rocky steps.
Cutting her way through,
She found the lake in all it's glory.

She sat on the bank, pulling out the letter,
Her leg still throbbed but felt oddly better,
She opened the envelope quietly,
Pulling out the white sheet, peering at it strangely,

Like she knew it's secrets already.
Before unfolding it, she raised her head,
Blissfully aware of her surroundings.
She knew it was population-dead.

The leaves of trees had tiny dew drops,
The rapids were not so rapid after all,
The view was so breath-taking it would make one stop,
She smiled a smile that was irritatingly small.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened again,
Looked down at the paper and unfolded it,
Rummaged through her bag, took out a pen,
Turned in a position so the paper was lit.

Carefully she read each line.
Each word, each syllable
Each smooth ink line
And went on like this for a while.

Her lips from down, began to turn up,
The sunlight hit her and her eyes sparkled,
Finally her smile would be genuine,
She was finally happy.

Author's note: I don't know what the hell I was thinking

You really are something,
Your moods know no stability,
You think everyone hates you,
You have some fixed enimity
With everyone you know,
Although 'know' is a strong word,
You think you know them at a glance,
You're prejudiced and blinded by yourself,
You think you're the only important one,
While you complain about others having
Something called a superiority complex.
You pay no attention,
Once decided, you don't change your mind.
You insult everyone behind their backs,
You yell at us as though we're being impossible,
You think you have no friends when people are trying,
You think you're the only hard-working one,
The only one who's had a miserable life,
The only one who has the right opinion...

But what's the worst thing?
You can't help yourself.
It's a part of you,
You're stuck with it
And no one can blame you,
There's no cure after all,
However much we try,
However much you try,
You're stuck like this.
That must be horrible.
Not just for you
But for us too.
Both you and I need
To put up with you.
I can't imagine how it must be,
To be you.
To feel so hollow,
To have no friends
To feel lonely
Even when you're surrounded by people.
I'm sorry if I ever hurt you.
I'm sorry if I've yelled back,
But it's something inevitable.
Neither of us can help it,
This is how life is going to be,
Until the end.
I cry for you, trust me I do.
And I wish I could help.
It's just that most of the time
I'm hating you.
And I hate myself for hating you.
In truth, I do love you.
Not because I don't have a choice,
But because that's what it is.
I'm sorry.

She stared across the vast expanse of road, her eyes growing tired. Seemingly endless space could only draw her nearer to something unpredictable. Something she was most vulnerable to. Something she would cower against even amidst awareness of a heaven ahead of her. Loneliness.

It had almost become a hobby of hers to lose all sense and to forget. Sometimes, though, she forgot how to numb herself. Her craving could take the better of her, like any normal human being, however abnormal she was. She was not afraid of losing her limbs, eyes, ears or nose. No. She was stronger than that. Physically. Her mind grew feeble, though, at the thought of losing her actual self to something so relentless. Reckless she had been to not realise what she was losing, or worse, lost.

Puppetry on the highest level. That was what had led her to the road she was staring at. Her face, emotionless, shone against the white hot sunlight. She tried to acquire numbness so as to discard the most haunting feelings that any living being could endure. It became impossible as she realised her hunger. She hadn't eaten since...even that was hard to remember. Excellent. Her memory had vanished too. She fell on her knees, exhaustion taking over. "I'll take a rest," she tried to mutter but realised her throat had dried. She glared up at the blazing sun thinking, 'Why, thank you for the help.' Usually sarcasm made her a little satisfied. Not that day. She drew in long, deep breaths, inhaling (to her extreme annoyance) dust and sand particles. There was no chance a car would see her. She was on the most deserted highway in the world. She placed her dirty, limp hands on the road softly, acknowledging the burning sensation of the tar. Her arms gave way slowly, painfully, making her cheek drift down to the hard surface. She felt her whole body burn and ache. Perfect. She smiled a smile she knew was far from genuine. She let her body curl into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly. She looked on the bright side: at least she would overcome her fear by the time she got to her next life, which was dying alone, with no feeling, no emotion, no friend....no friend....not even family...no one. Absolutely no one.

As she rocked herself back and forth on the prickly surface, singing in a whisper a song that she always related to:

I am doll eyes
Doll mouth,
Doll legs.

I am doll parts,
Bad skin
Doll heart

It stands
For knife
For the rest
Of my life.

A tear slid down her cheek. She smiled. She could feel sadness to it's largest extent. She could feel.

'I can feel,' she thought, drifting off to eternal sleep.