Don't wanna be

   I don't know man...I guess it started out like this.
 
    My name. That doesn't matter. Call me anonymous. Its got a ring to it..
Any how. I'm a loner. Not by choice necessarily. It's just nearly impossible to find anyone to stick around.
     I'm not like the rest of you. My Sunday school teacher says I'm special. That isn't the case. I'm a demon, and her sweet self is just too afraid to say it to my face. There is a hole in my chest where my heart should be. Where my empathy should be, and feelings have meaning and all that happy horse shit.
     I try to make friends with the neighborhood kids, but they are less than interested. I'm weird. I suppose that's better than the names they would call me if they knew the truth. My life, if that's what we're calling it, is laid out in absolutes. I absolutely have no fucking clue, and I absolutely don't give a shit. I am also absolutely lying. I care more than they will ever know to know what it must feel like to see things in color.
    This black and white nonsense is for the birds. What's worse than that is that I spend most of my time lost in the grey. Am I happy or am I sad? Or am I just less sad, and I think I feel just fine? Am I dying? Can't be. At age 11 I recognized that I was very much already dead.
    This nameless, faceless existence is mysterious the girls tell me. It makes me like a bad ass or something. Man is that a name I could live up to. I bet they never thought they'd regret the day they met me. So the story goes on and on. It ends just as hollow as it had begun.

How. That doesn't matter. Call it fate. It's got a ring to it.