We met on the first day of December, when the sun had just begun to set below the horizon. However, it wasn't a school project nor a fluffy fairground encounter that sparked off this relationship: Our first encounter began with my attempt to commit suicide.
It seemed back then as though my parents were never fated to be a part of my life. And yet, my persistent impulsiveness drove me to defy that fate. At least, I attempted to do so. I searched. Night after night I would come home from school and sit in the basement flipping through old files, and night after night I would come to the same disappointment.
The ones who had brought me into this world had cast me out to some stranger family the moment I opened my eyes.
The resent taxed up, and the empty hole in my chest only got deeper and deeper. It didn't help that my earliest memories begun with whitewashed visions of other children, surrounded by whitewashed walls. I was a nobody to begin with.
That said, my fatal flaw as I knew it was that I tried to hard to lie to the world. It was much easier to laugh and agree when my peers told of their childhood adventures, than to explain that I spent the first half of my life in a desloate institute. The laughter built up into walls of lies. Walls of a false life which get thicker everytime it is proded at. But one day, even walls collapse.
And they buried me under them.
On that day, I stood by the sea with the waves lapping at my feet, gazing in the blue depths.
That day, he found me.
