SKELLETON ROCKSTAR

Mirjam didn't talk much. She didn't talk at all, really. She didn't want to learn sign language, nor did she want to explain why.
Yet she wrote in a little notebook in order to comunicate, and even though her writing felt kind of pedantic at times, for the unnecessarily complicated words she frequently used; I thought it was wonderful. She didn't speak, yet I felt like I understood her more than I ever understood myself.
And even now, as she lays sprawled on the street's pavement, a pool of blood reeking out of her body, I think she understands me more than anyone ever will.
And I think I understand her, too. I understand her dying pain. I understand her agony.
And I know I will carry this limitless understanding until the end of times.
As the cars huddle around us, as the sirens screech and everyone runs to help as if it would even make a difference, I think she understands me too.