Knives

Introduction:

I wont introduce myself. I wouldn't know what to say. I know my name. But that doesn't matter. I'm not a collection of letters. I don't know what I am.

Chapter 1:

I woke up that night and sat in my window. "It's still too bright", I thought. "Maybe if they turned the street lights off, I would feel better." I took a deep breath, dizzying from the clarity of the fresh night air. I stepped out and closed the window, drawing the blinds. I closed my eyes. "Still not dark enough", I thought. I walked into my closet and closed the door. I closed my eyes and sighed. "That's better". I missed this. I don't know what sort of feeling it was but I missed it. Freedom? Happiness? Those are just words. Words used to describe emotions believed to be felt by the majority of humanity. No one really knows if we're all talking about the same thing. I don't use these words. I don't tell people about my feelings. My emotions are just understandings. Not to be categorized and not to be labeled. I cant pass on these understandings. If I tried to explain, they wouldn't get it. Also, I'd have to explain why I felt that way...no one needs to know those things. Besides, who would listen?