Shot by Cupids Arrow.

A Dark Deception

She steps lightly on the pavement, careful to keep quiet. It's not like there's anyone here that she could disturb but she likes to blend into the background a lot.

Walking into her somewhat home and laying down on the mattress in the middle of the incomplete room. She had been living here for about a year now. The construction site was never completed so she decided that it was the perfect place for her. Whoever started couldn't finish them for whatever reason.

The site was empty of any other human activity other than her. That's another thing she wondered about, Was she even human?

She looked like one. Felt everything a human did. Heard everything a human did. So was she human?

Scientists would say so. But apparently she knew if she was crazy enough to ask, and if they were crazy enough to answer her, she would only believe otherwise.

She knew it was stupid for someone to ponder about what they are when it's clear to anybody that she crossed that she was human. So why bother? Well, isn't it a right for someone to know about themselves, you would think so. Life is about self discovery isn't it? So why does she think differently?

So many things run through her head at this very moment. Why was she the one for this fate? Why must she long for something she can't have? Why wasn't she born human like everyone else, just like she wish she had? Why can't she have someone? Why can't she experience love when so many others can? How is that fair?

" For gods sake, I practically create love. So why must I be the one to go without?"

She ponders this very question like no other.

"I guess it just wasn't In the cards for me" she thinks to herself.

But still, why does she have to be so unhappy? If she couldn't have love then why can't she at least be happy? And why does she have so many unanswered questions.

She sits up and looks around the room until she finds what she's looking for ; an old blunt 2B pencil and a torn sketch pad that is falling apart at the seems.

She then uses a small sharpe blade to sharpen the pencil, and lays on her stomach with the pencil and pad in hand and starts to draw.

She loved to draw. She put all her pain, longing, anguish and heartache into her drawings. The room was covered in them. Some laying out on the floor in the corner. Some laying on the table and some even taped to the wall.

She drew because it was the only thing she was good at, so she thinks. To get away from reality. She has easily gotten lost in a piece for three days. Didn't eat, didn't sleep. Not that she needed to. She did it to feel somewhat normal.

She sketches the outlines of a girl, young, face like porcelain, huddled up to her legs, hands closed tightly and face ducked down between her knees. Sitting in a corner of a room.

The girls hair was long and light, flowing over what you could see of her face.

The girl had wings. Yes, wings. Bent round over her head. She added the detail to each and every feather, putting all her emotions into one drawing.

She likes to think of her self as a good artist. She thinks that if your good at something then put all your effort into it. She stays like this for awhile, putting all her concentration into this tiny but oh so Important piece of work.

When she steps back from the piece to have a good look she is somewhat proud of her work.

The girl in the corner was completed to perfection. Her wings bright and strong, But her face looked broken. Not physically, but emotionally, yes. She was cowering into a corner of a very dark room and a glowing light radiates off of her.

The only colours in this drawing was the dark lead that had been smudged to make that glowing affect.

The vibe of this drawing was somewhat dark and depressing. And in a way reminded the girl of her own life. She was sad. If you saw her you could tell. She always seemed so glum but just like the picture her wings shone bright and gave her that sense of hope. But even then, on the darkest days, it wasn't enough.