I have no friends, all I have is my cloak. "What are you looking at?" I think to myself as people stare while they walk by. "I don't see you with a cool cloak like mine." This used to be a cape, but I started balding, and and there are no bald super heros. I sit here. Sit here pondering if I shouldn't have dropped out of medical school.
I met my soul mate there, he had a desk. He failed. I loved him. I remember how we met. He was sitting at his desk at the library. He took his desk everywhere, to class, home, to the bathroom. Anyways, he was at his desk while I was in the corner pretending to read comic books, but was actually staring at him. We locked eyes for the longest three hours 15 minutes of my life.
I saw him every Saturday at the library. We had the best relationship; we never argued. But one day, someone started pulling out my hair. He broke off the top of his desk and at a full sprint leaped into a fatal blow.
The man died from the strike of my lover. The cops beat him and dragged him off the campus. He looked back as I was glueing the hair back into my head. I only ever heard him say one thing and that was "f**k!", but it was beautiful. I think they might've raped him.
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