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I place my hands on the keys of the piano and let the music flow out of me. This is really only one of the things that can keep me sane anymore. I play the song that I've been playing since I was three years old. The key is C major and it's in 6/8 time. It starts off slowly, with a very sad sound. That sound doesn't really get any happier, but I've never finished it yet because I don't know how it ends. Everyday I go a bit further into the song, but I just stop at some point because I physically can't finish it. Nobody taught it to me because nobody ever needed to. This is my song.

When I hear banging at my door, I sigh and stop playing just long enough to hear my roommate Salina yell, "You'd better get your ass over here freak. I don't have all day! I've got a party to put together!"

"Coming!" I yell.

When I open the door, my heart stops and drops into my stomach. Her normally blond hair is dyed black and extensions let her hair fall down to her thighs in waves. She is in black converse shoes and skinny jeans two sizes too small for her that I know she stole from me. A red and black plaid dress that falls to her knees is in place of her usual bright pink tank top. But the thing that unnerves me the most is her eyes. Usually they're a dark green but today they're gold. Just like mine.

 It's Halloween today. And she's dressed as me.

She stares at me like I'm the stupidest thing on the planet, "What's with you. It's just a joke, hey look," she pulls out the extensions, "see? They come off, and the dye isn't permanent. It comes out in one wash."

I shake my head in disbelief. A joke? This isn't a joke it's a message. Get out, you're different and we can all tell. "Funny joke. Question though, why didn't you just dress up as yourself? You're clearly a bitch-I mean witch."

She laughs bitterly and puts down the bags she was carrying, which are filled with an assortment of different chips and sodas. Salina turns to me and scowls, saying, "You were invited to the party. I wasn't going to be dressed like this, but whatever. You don't have to come. I just thought, since you're obsessed with playing that piano, that well..."

"Hurry up, 'I don't have all day here...'" I say mimicking her whiny voice.

"Well I was hoping you could entertain the guests, but it's cool. I get that you hate my guts. I don't like you either, but I mean it's not like I don't try to be your friend. You're just so weird." She says, and it's true. She has tried to be nice to me, in a small way. We've been roommates for almost a year now; it's kind of a given that she'd have to tolerate me. At the beginning, she fawned over me like she was five and I was a new Barbie doll, asking me a whole bunch of questions about my eyes and why my hair is so long. When she finally got the message that I'm not the girly-girl type and spent more time with me, she found out just how different I could be. Sometimes I accidentally answer her thoughts, which freaks her out, but she thinks I can just read her expressions really well. She has her suspicions, but for now, that's all they are. She really has no proof.

She doesn't know what's wrong with me, only that she can sense my difference, as any other normal human can, and my heavy sarcasm, her abhorrence to said sarcasm and my dislike for the colour pink is also part of her distaste towards me. I can't blame her there.

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