It's pouring rain outside right now. My shaggy hair getting a little longer from the weight of the water. I don't mind it, the longer my bangs, the better it hides my unnatural blue eyes. I always feel insecure about my body. I'm not fat or anything, I'm just too tall for an average human. I would say that I'm about 6'7" 1/2, but my height isn't the problem. It's how pale I look, it's the scars and burns that cover it. Whenever I look at myself at the mirror, I feel horrible. I always think that this body can never please anyone. It's not like it'll ever have the chance to. I mean...I did have sex once. But it was just a fling, it wasn't out of love. I was drunk, she was drunk, you know how it goes. I need to stop thinking about the past. I have to focus on my goal today. I'm almost to the junkyard, following the paths and alleyways that seem familiar to me. There it is, right up that hill. A few weeks ago, I did find a make-shift house, made of several different materials and junk. I didn't bother to go in because someone might be living there. So I just walk past it, heading to the center of the junkyard, where it's most private. I walk over to my corner and sat down, crossing my legs. I close my eyes, breathing in and out slowly, freeing my mind.

~10 minutes later~

"...Hahaha.."

For some reason, doing something like this calms me down. It helps me take out all of my emotions, anger and frustration, on objects like scraps of metal and trash.

"Hahahaha...pfft haha..."

It'll be bad if someone saw me like this. They would either run away from me or get worried and walk towards me. I'd rather want them to run away because there is a chance that I could hurt them. That's always been my biggest fear, besides being in dark places.

"..It's so pretty..hahaha..."

Right now, I'm looking at a broken wine bottle. I can't control my body when I'm like this, but I can still think, I can still feel and hear. I can feel my hand, the one holding the bottle, move closer to my face. My cheeks are hurting from my wide and creepy smile. My hand moves closer and closer, the sharp edges of the bottle brushing against my nose. But before it can get any closer, I threw the bottle at the ground. I can't hurt people, I can't even hurt myself, I never had the courage to do so anyway.

"Hahaha...I'm..so tired of everything...haha.."

That's right...I am tired of everything. Tired of being afraid, tired of being scared of, tired of being alone, tired of....having no chance to find love. I'm just so tired right now...if I can die right now, here, in this junkyard. I would be happy..because no one can find my body, everyone will think I'm missing. But I can't do that, I can't. For some reason, I never had the strength to kill myself. I want to know why, I want to know why I can't bring the knife down.

"....haha..."

It feels like I'm calming down now. Good, it's getting late anyway, so I should get some rest and head back to my team building to finish on some paperwork. Let's see....here, this spot could work. I feel my body getting tired, collapsing over the spot I was just thinking about and closed my eyes. A few minutes passed and I already started dreaming. It's all blurry to me, but I can make out a few things. I'm in the southern district, walking around for some apparent reason. Then I see something, sitting down on the sidewalk. He's looking up at me with an expression I can't describe. Just like the dream itself, this guy is blurry, but the only thing that stands out is his long blue hair. When I saw that, I instantly knew who it was. I heard many stories about what he did years ago, I heard how he fights in Rhyme, saying that once you hear his voice, something happens to your mind. I said his name in my dream, but it slipped out in my sleep as well.

"...Sly..Blue..."