Me and My Best Friend (:p)

What am I doing? I wonder to myself as I type another paragraph. Why am I still here? And everyone else...is not?

Maybe I’m just a shell. Maybe I’m not really here. Tap. Tap. Another paragraph. Yes, that’s it. I guess I am just trapped in my paragraphs. Maybe that’s where my memories are.

I see moons. Red moons, blue moons…. I wonder if they are part of my paragraphs too.

Or… maybe I am just a robot. Clackity-clack. Another paragraph. Yes, that’s it. Maybe I have to be here, and my hands move of their own accord. I type and type, unsure of what I am doing. Maybe that’s it.

Or… do you think that maybe everyone else is here, but I can’t see them? Maybe they’re watching me type. Hello, everyone! Letters and letters coming from my mind. Another paragraph. Yes, that’s it. They are all watching me now. They can read what I write. But… what can I write? I don’t know what to do.

Or… or… or… … … …

I can hear the bell ringing as I type another paragraph. It keeps ringing and ringing and it won’t stop. I guess if I go over and answer the door, it will finally quiet down. But… where’s the door? I don’t remember anymore.

Mumbles and jumbles of words. Another paragraph.

If it goes any faster I’ll get dizzy. I wonder what hope feels like. I wonder what it means to wonder. I wonder if I have hoped before… Why isn’t anyone else here. Why doesn’t it get lonely?

For the first time, I break away from the screen and stare at my hands. My poor hands, all slender and pale and itching for a keyboard.

For the first time, I’m not typing. For the first time, I see the lines on my hands.

For the first time, I think I can hear something other than the bell. What… is it? I see a… a… What is that?

It has a keyboard. My hands itch for it. But… what about my paragraphs? But… what about that keyboard?

For the first time, I push a bond away. I walk up to something new and I put my hands on it. For the first time, I know what to do. For the first time, I create something beautiful, from my heart. For the first time, I can see what I make.

Another paragraph? No. Another song.