I still remember our first meeting. You were walking in your grandmothers yard. It was January of 1990, and if I recall correctly, you were about thirteen years old at the time. The cold was miserable, and your hair was tussled from the wind. Your jacket was puffy, cheap, and ill-fitting. The cold was brutal, but the look of contentment on your face was unmistakable. You were oblivious and magnetic. I knew from the moment I saw you, I had to have you.
I wasn't sure if you'd ever had a friend before, but my guess was never. When I first spoke to you, your eyes were wild and aimless. Every word you spoke was either a soft mumble or a wild rant.
We played together as the darkness crept in. Your grandparents didn't call you for dinner that night, and we danced for an eternity. The porch light caught glimmers of steam pouring from your mouth as you panted from exhaustion. Your face was flush with blood and shined like a dying sun amidst an endless void. Separation was misery, but we were content.
By the Summer of 1994, things had changed so much. The rain had fallen, and your hands could touch heaven. The wilderness consumed the sky, and all our paths were gone. I wasn't your only friend anymore, and I constantly fought for your attention. I had become completely invisible. A piece of you died with each hand that touched you. The life you gave me was born of innocence, and as the seasons changed, we lost it all. One sleepless summer night, I tried to console you. I couldn't grasp your despair...your restlessness..
I asked you to give me a name. You replied, "I need you to leave."
I asked, "For how long?"
You said, "Forever."
Since that night, no one has believed in me the way you did. Maybe someday I'll recapture what we once had. Until then, I'm just as alone as you are. I love you. I miss you, and I hope you feel the same.
To me, you'll always be that kid with the awesome magic marker.
The nameless don't have signatures.
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