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"Who are you?" I ask in silence, staring to him, through him.
He looks at me with that beautiful smile I love slowly fading on his lips. "What?"
I stay quiet and turn around.
"Well, it isn't my fault you're... you're... moody! That is."
"Huh. I am moody? I cannot believe you said that."
"But it is true. You're... angry at me for no reason or you're angry and taking it out with me! You shouldn't. I can help you."
I close my eyes in deep disbelief. I couldn't hold on tighter to my first question, who-was-he?
"You can help me by listening and understanding that I haven't been and am not angry. I am not angry."
"Well then you've had a bad day and you're blaming me about it."
I turn around, in sudden anger.
"It is not fair! Yes. I believe that it isn't" My voice went up a few levels and I make the best effort to keep myself calm. "You're... you haven't been fair to me. You know I'm worried and nervous... there has not been a day since the beginning of the year that I don't freak at some time of the day. I freak and panic and worry. I do. I will, but you don't understand that. And you say nothing! But I am pretty sure you think I am stupid for wasting so much... mind, time on that! I can't think of anything else. It's my future in the line even if you don't like it or don't care."

I wish you helped.
I wish you believed in me a little bit more.
And I wish I wasn't as selfish to wish for that.

Shadows.

I think the main problem is that no matter how much I try, I keep remembering.
I remember how it slowly got darker and darker. How you smiled and played with me, making me laugh, making me scream. How you took me into your arms and turned the world around.
And how you were there for me. How you still are, sometimes.
How you kindly offered, without knowing it meant so much, and helped me face a weird kind of fear.

And the problem is, I remember us walking. Nearly running, side by side, a little chat. How you offered your arm to me and I took it. And you kept walking and so did I.
And then we found what we were looking for and we came back. And all I could think of was that you were there. Or I wish that had been all I could think of.
Trouble is, it wasn't. It was in my head, somewhere, buzzing around. Still, not strong enough. And I remember but the memory is hardly what is should be. It's not special, it's not magical. It just was. It was nice. It is nice to the day.

Is that all? Will we remain forever nice and never magical? Never special.
At least I believe so because you keep doing things without knowing that it means so much.