Her fingers laced with mine as the rest of our limbs were entangled with one another like yarn. I can never know what she's thinking about. The things she says and does are completely different sometimes. One minute, I'm covered in scratches while she's spewing how much she loves me, and the next, she's tending to my wounds, verbally abusing me. I'm the only one that can take in her pain, her suffering, her flaws.

I'm not sure why I'm still lingering around her. She's annoying and incomprehensible. But...I can't stop looking at her eyes. I can't stop memorizing every detail on her face. I can't stop watching her smile when she does. She has a good heart, I think. She doesn't hurt me purposely like everyone else in this world is. Sometimes, she'll even cry for me. I don't like it though.

Watching her cry...it hurts inside. It's strange because I feel no pain. It was just the way I was born, I guess. But when it's her, I feel like at any moment, I could die. I don't know why.

"I may not be the best explaining what these feelings are," she whispered softly, "but just know, that everything I do is with love."

My hands grab her face. I wish I knew what her skin felt like. It looks smooth.

"I love you." She said with wet eyes.

Sometimes, when she says stuff like that, I have this heavy feeling in my chest. I think it's because I feel sad. Sad that she feels guilty for hurting me. But at the same time, my heart races and the muscles on my face would move on their own. She pointed out once that I was smiling. So I think I was smiling at her. I began to mimic her expression. It's as if I could almost feel again.

We're a pair of people no one in this world could understand. We are a burden to one another, but neither one of us care. There is always first aid kits in every corner of this small, cramped apartment we live in, always Vaseline in the drawers, and always each other when things go wrong. No one will give us their blessings because we're not made for each other, but damn them all. I think we're perfect with our missing pieces.

There's that warm feeling again.

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2:38AM

— Author's Note: Writing this foreword was difficult! To try and not describe feelings or trying to even interpret them is a whole lot of work! I hope I can manage to write a wonderful story. It'll be sad. It'll be hard to understand. It'll probably bore you, but if you all could just see what I'm trying to do, I think you'll understand. Please support this story by subscribing and leaving comments down below.

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Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it.

(: