She glared at me happily with amber eyes, full of excitement, and despair seemingly followed after. I wondered what was wrong, it bothered me, like an itch you have deep under your skin, beckoning the urge to scratch it. I'll ask her later. She's genuine, I know that much. She's dorky, I like that, but most might find it annoying. She seems to get along decent with everyone, and yet she still has that smile on her face. Not necessarily a fake smile, but a broken one, because that smile was at the utmost real, anything but fake.
I was staring off into nothing, I realized, as I looked up with my solemn face and she said..
"Smile, Kid!"
From then on I made a promise to myself, that at the least I will always try to make myself smile, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Her hugs were sweet and her smile warm and welcoming, there's a lot wrong with this one. She needs help, I think I'll talk to her.
I tried, and inevitably, but not in a concieted way, I succeded. She opened up to a stranger, poured her heart out, but not without ripping the bloody stiches first. This was interesting.
Heh.
It seems she knows there's something different. This isn't normal. Or is it?
Not at all. The fact of the matter is, at that moment, when the truth poured from her mouth like a waterful, she knew then, that she was just like me.
Non-existent.
Smile, Kid.
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