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We never discovered this world. We never discovered this planet. We merely stumbled and tumbled upon it, claiming it as our own and putting ourselves on our thrones.

I’d been strung along this whole time. I thought I was in with a chance, when really that wasn’t the case at all. I was simply the lowliest pawn in the game and I hadn’t seen it coming. What a waste all this was. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.

I watched him go in front of my eyes, sleeved in the warm darkness while I stupidly followed behind in shorts and a tank top. The mosquitoes sunk deep into my skin, sucking out everything they could. So while I got weaker along the way, tripping over roots and underbrush, the distance between our bodies grew deeper. The distance between our hearts ran like a jagged scar along my bumped skin.

“What was that dear?”

“How many pixels wide is the image, Grandma?”

“Sweetie, there aren’t any pixies in my photographs, wide or narrow ones? I never know what you young ones are talking about, pixies and fairies and jiffies and goodness knows what else…”

They’re no longer made of skin, the kids. They’re made of pixels. Their world is no longer a stage and they are no longer players. The kids are merely artificial colors on an artificial screen in an artificial world.

I would have done anything for you–anything at all, darling. But you didn’t want any of it. Even when I pushed and prodded, even when I knew I downright annoyed you. Eventually, I had to practice what I preached and get off my damn knees and stop worshiping you like I owed you something. All I owed anyone was my dignity, and you had buried that long ago.

Feel my wrath, you pratt. I’m coming back for everything you hid underneath your guilty feet.

I hated that you didn’t stay on weekends. I hated that you texted back only a fraction of what I did. I hated that I always had to plan our hang outs. I hated that you talked about other girls during and after our make outs. I hated that you blamed me for what we did both times to carve the path of innocence into your conscience. I hated when you fled from the truth that April night.

But I never hated you.

I watched Bones eagerly, and I loved the decomposed bodies and the skeletons and skulls and everything. Emily Deschanel who portrays Dr. Temperance Brennan reminds me of one of my best friends. The friend that no matter what happens, I will always love her like a shining star.

Just under the surface, and just below the leaf litter all damp from the morning’s dew, the body was located. It was left to decompose and be one with the earth again, just as the last wishes had requested. A macabre final request.

Pushed.