Onyx came to stand by me. "Why so glum?" she asked.
"They always care for Luke, all the time it's Luke, Luke, Luke. He does everything, that's why he's in that bed. He tries to act heroic, but he almost always winds up with broken bones."
She sighed. Great. Now someone was feeling sorry for me. I just stood there, willing myself to let myself go. I was barely aware of myself standing there, instead I was in the past,thinking of the people I used to know, the places I used to live.
I had been a loner, then too. No one ever noticed me, my unremarkable looks, and the fact that I almost never spoke. I felt my blood boil. But I used to have one friend. One good friend, who had always knew what I was thinking. It almost hurt to remember, in fact, I had forgotten what he looked like.
I didn't return to myself for a long time. I strayed among memories, fuzzy though they were, wondering if I would ever see my old friend again.