I want to pretend that you don't exist. I want to pretend that things had changed, if only slightly, from what they were, and what they've become now. I want to pretend.

Just for a little while.

And you give me that, and I hate you for it. When we touch, we are not ourselves, and we are running. We run from everything, hidden behind these walls where the world cannot see us, and they can, not, judge. Where we can't judge…where we merely exist. To simply exist in a cohesive world of our own design, unparalleled by those that would not understand. Where we can hide forever.

And we can pretend.

I want to pretend that you're nothing, that everything we do is merely a façade, another step in this insane game we've begun. I want you to mean nothing…I want you to be nothing.

But when we're together, I am so much more. How can so much, so very much, exist when we are together, if you do not bring something in return? If you are nothing…then why am I whole here?

Chains of our own design run much deeper than cold steel. We are nothing more than what we pretend to be...and we bastardize ourselves by pretending to be who we are not.

Pretending to be no one…for the sake of having someone.

It's a trifle, a game, a poorly timed move and captured piece, to later be discarded as the current shifts, and power changes hands. We know this.

I hate you for it.

I hate you for accepting it from me anyway, this minor token of anonymity that I couldn't give to anyone else. Let me pretend, for just a little longer, that you are meaningless, and that I am strong enough to do what needs to be done.

Pain is weakness leaving the body….

It's going to hurt. I can feel it in the way I tense when you move, I can feel it in your stare. It's coming, we know it. Eventually, it going to shatter us both, because life is a mosaic. We are each building something from our shattered pieces, a separate future that has nothing to do with each other. We are more. We have to be more than nothing.

But in a dark room, it's much easier to pretend.

When the shadows themselves build our masks, and we can hide away, and be nothing for a while. Just to exist. Just to breathe.

Just to Pretend.

But when children grow up, they stop pretending. When the light comes back, there are no more shadows…and we are once again ourselves…more. Complete, and apart.

We are alone when the sun shines.

But when the night comes and there is nothing else to be said…when our fight takes a rest in favor of peace and sleep, there is more to be had in silence than there ever was in birdsong. Let them all sleep, and we'll hide, you and I.

We'll pretend.

I want to hate you for it, but there's a fine line between the shadow and the light, and if we cross it…if we acknowledge that we are nothing, together or apart, we cannot come back to this. This limbo where time stops, and there's no reason for it to move.

Shut up. Let's pretend.

Just for a little while.