Notes

My shadow was not my own. I would never tell, though, for people would call me mad. But my shadow was not me. Dont ask how i knew, i simply knew, from the feeling i had as she watched me. She. She had left nearly three years ago now, just not all the way. I heard her sometimes, when the wind blew just right through the willows that provided her name. Willow had been found three years ago, just before sunrise. And thats when i recieved a shadow that was not mine.
I stared at the curves i did not have, the close cut hair i did not have, everything i did not have. We had nothing in common, so how could i miss her so much? It mocked me, the shadow, playing with my head. And what was more, it was worse at night.
Things were...alive at night.
But also not alive. They were also more dead than ever.
Squeezing my eyes shut, i could still feel the solid hands that would oh so gently hold me, and much less gently entice me. But id never feel the warmth again, only cold remineces in the darkness i had grown to hate.
Because things live in the dark. Especially when you were alone.
Six years ago, a tree fell on my. Six years ago, that tree stammered an apology before complimenting me on my blue eyes. And to seal the deal, six years ago, the tree had brought me to her home, making the finest apology cake she could. And six years ago, i noticed how the tree stood alone in a field, with nothing but the sun to beat down on her.
Not to say Sunny wasnt useful. she kept a roof over Willows head, Just not much else. Sunny was among the list of bad mothers in other respects.
So six years ago, i offered for the first time in her life, something other than sun to the tree. I offered companionship.
Six years ago, on new years, i gave more to Willow. And i thought i broke her for a while, before i learned what happy tears were.
Five years ago, we figured out many things.
On her birthday, i learned to burn cake. On valentines, i blushed for the first time. One day in march, Willow decided she liked the flavor of my skin, and i decided i would try and like myself, if only for her sake. The first day of summer break, we were brave enough to jump off the cliff into the lake, screaming like the girls we were all the while. And that evening, Willow learned the meaning of eight little letters, which made three little words. And the sun never came out that whole summer. Together, we relished the cool of the dark.
The fourth of july, you saw stars for the first time, and i laughed at that crooked smile you had. The one i always had to press against my own stupid smile you said made me look like rain. The good type that smelled nice and you wanted to drink in. I dnever grew tired of blushing five years ago.
The sun came out as school arrived. I saw no trees, except for the science teacher, mister oak, for months. It rained a lot on my face until Christmas.
On Christmas, my family dragged me to church, and i saw an angel, the kind that exist on earth.
He called me special, and other empty things, hollow man he was. On new years, i learned new things from the empty man, but they didn't make me blush as much as the lone tree's tendrils brushing my skin ever did.
On your birthday, i learned the empty man was empty.
I never even new his name. Only had his number saved in my phone.
On your birthday, i saw the sun, pushing you out the door as i walked home. I cought your stormy eyes and never before had i run so fast.
If only it had been toward you.
Four years ago, on the night after your birthay, you knew my hiding place, and you sat ten feet away from me, watching it rain, a miserable drizzle that wouldnt stop for hours. Im glad you never said anything.
Four years ago, sometime in april, we hid together in the dark at my house. The sun was gone for good, thanks to what i told my parents. You didn't like it.
I didnt Think you wouldnt have happy tears over the sun setting. I held you as My shirt was soaked through. You were warm even then.
I was glad that i could still tend my tree, even if a few branches were broken.
You had no roof now, so i offered you my own. You smiled and shook your head. You didnt trust me enough. I didnt know it at the time, but you had watched me with the empty man as much as you could. Id appologise now, if you were able to hear.
A month later, you said yes, unable to avoid the dangers any longer. My mother disapproved, but wouldnt force someone on the streets. I was grateful as you were, i just knew we had to be more careful. i don't know how many times we were caught for the rest of the year. I guess teenagers are reckless in that way. At least we made a lot of good stories.
And even more enemies.
We lived on the edge that way.
One night in november, after you climbed down from your bunk into mine, we sat together in the darkness we loved for hours into the morning, trading fantasies we never dared dream of before. I remember nothing after that for the next month.
Three years ago, you were found. Three years ago, i got a new shadow, sometime in november.
At first, in the dark, i thought i was still not alone. We talked and played all hours.
But then sunlight filtered in through my windows, which were in dire need of cleaning.
It wasnt Sunny, but light dawned upon me.
My shadow did not belong to me.
Three years ago, i dispelled all the nighttime wonders, growing to fear it. Shadows are more solid in the dark. I felt things. They were not me, they were not you. They were not you, they found you, it couldnt be you, my head was raining againg, it made everything unclear, and i couldnt think.
Three years ago on new years. I fled to my hiding spot and it rained the rest of the evening. Two years ago on your birthday, i burned another cake, but ate it anyways.
Two years on valentines day, i recieved one card. One too many. I felt like the sun as i shined on the empty man, who came without invitation.
He never touched me again after that.
Tow years ago, i stayed in my hiding spot all summer. The willows around me whispered their disaproval in the wind, and i thought it was you. I explained everything as best i could to the shadow that followed me.
I was done with school, so i took to making art with my skin for the rest of the year.
On Christmas, i wore long sleeves and got no questions.
On new years, i stayed in our room, and the lights were still on.
I had to change on of the bulbs, though.
last year, i got better at art. I had to make more to get better, after all.
I smiled like the rain because i remembered you telling me red was the color of heroes, and you had always called me you hero. Even though i disliked the color.
On new years last year, the willows i sat in whispered in your voice "you're not being a hero"
It hurt so much to hear the truth.
Now its your birthday and all i can do is watch this shadow.
You see, i made too much art, and im too weak to move (the things i cooked burned too much to eat. You were always the better chef) i haven't changed the bulbs in a while, and the last one is about to go too. I can hear the filaments buzzing like they do just before they pop. You used to say they were shaking in fear for the end.
Im shaking too.
To my left, on the wrong side of the light, the shadow is standing and watching me. Its waiting i think.
Im waiting to. Im waiting for the darkness ive hated for so long. And theres only one question i have left.
It has nothing to do with why you had to be found the way you were.
Nothing to do with our fantasies.
Only one thing thats been bugging me for the last three years.
Why do i hate the dark when im alone?
I guess i'll find out now. The light just burst. I can feel the old coldness. And i know its not me. Its not you. Its not a shadow.
Before i- you know... Let me tell you those eight Letters, those three words for the second time in my life. You...