I reached out, my fingers stretching fully to try and grasp the world before me. I wanted to feel it, to touch it, and breathe it in. I was so close, closer than I had ever been before to reaching this dream of mine. This small hope that still rests inside of me was greater back then. I still have the want, though the power is not with me, it never was.

My finger tips that were reached out to their fullest, brushed against a cold surface, sending a shiver up my spine. I withdrew my hand quickly out of shock. I reached out once more, this time human curiosity getting the better of me. I touched it again, and ran my hand down the surface. The surface chilled my hand and it took me a long while to figure out what it was: glass. I blew on it and a fog came up on it, in which I was going to write my name, something any other child of my age would have done in the fog of glass, only I found one problem. This problem puzzled me to no end, never have I found an answer to this day. What is my name?

Confused, I fell to a sitting position, my back resting on the cold glass. I can't tell you how it felt not knowing my own name. Humans take names for granted. Something that defined who they are, but here I was without one. I felt like a nothing. Beyond that I can't even begin to tell you about the emptiness of not having a name. In a futile attempt to make myself feel better, I named myself. I can't tell you my name, though, it is for me and me only, that way you can't take it away.

I felt around and managed to find that I was in a box of glass, a rather large box, but a box none-the-less. Many would think that one would be confused to find themselves in a glass box and would instantly want out. I, on the other hand, didn't know what the outside was like. I don't remember ever being out of here. I still want out, and I still long for the land outside, but I guess not as much as one who would have felt it before. I still sometimes wonder if the shadow in the corner who keeps me company was once out there. He doesn't talk anymore, though, I don't know if he ever did, to tell you the truth.

Anyways, back what I was saying. The worst part are the people. They walk past me without even seeing me. I don't know if this glass only shows through one way and they can't see me, or if they don't want to see me. I reached out to them the first few times, I called out to them across the glass barrier, but never, not once, did they answer or even acknowledge my presence. They just walk by, their lives too important to bother with mine. I have never had anyone to talk to for this reason, and I have always felt very alone with the want of companionship. The shadow just appeared one day, he has been my companion for the longest time. I don't know how long, I never saw remembering dates helpful. Though, now you are here, too. You'll stay with me, won't you? Of course you will.

I have noticed the box getting smaller and smaller lately. I don't like the feel of this, I don't know what to do, though. I don't know if I can do anything at all. It used to be the size of a small room, now, though, it resembled the size of a large closet. I don't like the idea of the area getting smaller, I believe I may be claustrophobic. It makes me sick to think of such a small space.

Oh, well, while we can't do anything about it, could you tell me and shadow a story? I have told you one, it's your turn. I have been here for a long time and not once have I heard another's voice, this glass must be soundproof. I only ask you of this one small thing, nothing more. I wait, I have been waiting for a while now, why don't you answer? Why do you not say anything? I want to hear your voice, please, say something.

I raise my hand to my cheek, something strange is going on with my eyes, water is coming from them. I have never had this happen before, I must think of what this is, unless, of course, you will tell me. No? You still say nothing. Crying, that's what this is. You have made me cry. If I remember right, it comes from being sad. Why am I sad? Did I really want to hear your voice that bad? Am I really that lonely? Am I really that weak?

I am sorry. You came and I am I crying. Please forgive my rudeness. It's not often I have visitors, actually, other than the shadow, I have never had any. Here, I'll let you meet the shadow. I raise my hand to point over into the corner of the glass prison, there he is. Just, as I call him, a shadow. I can make out the shape of a man when I look at him long and hard, but it is very vague and hardly noticeable. I sometimes see eyes on him, though, I don't really know if I am just imagining them.

I looked up to the top of the glass enclosure and notice that the sun is still shining, that is obvious, but the light is barely reaching us. It is as though we are behind sunglasses instead of glass. That is really strange, for such a thing has never happened before. I tried to ignore it, to give you my full attention, I don't want to be inhospitable, but I can't help it. The glass keeps getting darker and keeps blocking out more and more of the light, I don't know what to do, but it is starting to scare me. The box, also is getting to be smaller. I glanced over to the shadow for help, but I quickly realized none will come from him, for he is shaking, in fear I suspected.

I turned to him and tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, I am sorry I couldn't be more hospitable, but I really must find why he is afraid. He has never been afraid from what I can recall, not visibly anyways. I bent down beside him and I opened my mouth to ask once more, but he looked up at me, blazing red eyes glaring into my own. I couldn't help but scream out in fear. His hand reached out over my mouth and it was like nothing I had ever felt before. I couldn't feel flesh, only cold. It was as though the air itself was grabbing me.

I watched as the box grew smaller and the sunlight was droned out, the shadow pushed me into him, slowly combining us together. I was becoming the shadow, also. I looked to you, I wanted to cry out, though I couldn't because of the shadow's hand was in the way. I felt the tears run down my face for the second time that night, why were you just standing there? Why weren't you helping me? That was when it hit me, I knew why the glass was shrinking, why the light wouldn't shine through, and why the shadow was swallowing me. You refused to believe I was real. You were the same as everyone else. All the people that passed by, you didn't see me, that was why you never answered me. To you, I wasn't ever here. Why had I thought that you were different? You were the last reason for the shadow to consume me. I don't blame you, though, it was inevitable. I am, after all, forgotten. Maybe I will see you sometime in the future. Maybe then you can tell me a story . . .