I hate charcoal.

I really really hate it.

I hate how the colors smear together whether you like it or not.

And I hate how it leaves a mess everywhere no matter how careful you are.

I hate charcoal.

I've always liked paint better.

I like paint so much better than charcoal.

Paint doesn't smudge or smear, that is unless you want it to.

Paint never leaves a mess unless you make one.

I like paint.

He likes charcoal.

We're different.

We're from two different worlds.

We're exactly that same yet completely different at the same time.

I'm loud and obnoxious, and I always have something to say.

He's quiet and reserved, and he always knew when to keep his mouth shut.

I like to wear soft pastel colors, like sea green or light blue.

He likes to wear dark bold colors, like navy blue and crimson red.

I used to play piano but I never good at it.

I play guitar pretty good though, but I'd much rather sing.

I can sing and play guitar.

He can't sing, though.

He can't sing for his life.

He can play guitar.

But he likes his piano much better.

He can't sing with his guitar like I can.

So we're different.

We're completely different.

I smile on the outside, but that doesn't mean I'm happy.

He frowns on the outside, because he doesn't want anyone to know how happy he is.

My favorite color is blue, for now.

Next week it could be purple, or yellow, or green.

I can never make up my mind.

His favorite color is green.

He likes green, not matter how much he wears blue, and red, and black.

He always knows where he's going.

We're different.

We're completely different.

I act confident, but I'm really scared.

No one notices.

He acts shy, but he's really sure of himself.

Everyone knows that.

I'm always straight forward with everything I say.

But everything I say has some hidden meaning.

He always talks in puzzles and makes everything dramatic.

If you look really closely, his puzzle isn't that confusing.

I was his best friend.

Even if he acts like he hates me now.

I hope I am the only one who sees right through him.

He is my best friend.

Even though he doesn't know it.

He is the only one who sees right through me.

We're artists.

We like expressing ourselves in everything we do.

I am paint.

I am watery and one day I will fade away.

Regardless if you want me to or not.

I am fragile and I will break at any given moment.

I will rip.

I will tear.

I will be washed away until there is nothing left.

All that I am is hidden under layers and layers of complexity.

No matter how hard you look, you will never find the whole picture.

He is charcoal.

He is bold and his memory smears everywhere.

Regardless if you like him or not.

You can't erase him no matter how hard you try.

He can cover you.

He can choke you.

He will suffocate you until you cannot see what is left.

All that he is has been in front of you all along.

You just have to look hard enough to find it.

He's turned me into a mess when I wasn't even looking.

I am ripping.

He is covering me over.

I am tearing.

He is choking me.

I am slowly washing away.

There is nothing left but him.

We are different.

I am paint.

He is charcoal.

We are two different substances.

We are exactly alike, yet completely different.

We cannot co-exist with eachother.

For we are the different.

Somethimes I wish we were the same.

But if we were the same then I would not like you.

The truth is I don't hate charcoal.

I really really don't.

I like charcoal.

Maybe I even love charcoal- but let's not go that far.

But it's not possible.

Charcoal and paint don't mix.

They're completely different yet exactly the same.

We're completely different yet exactly the same.

But it's not possible.

I hate charcoal.

I really really hate hate charcoal.

I can't use charcoal.

Because everytime I use charcoal, I think of you.

And I really don't want to think of you.

I really really don't want to think about you.

We're different.

We're too different.

But we're the exactly the same.

A/N: I'm back! X.x Please reveiw! It's noce to know people area ctually reading this. I'm playing with the bold and italics way to much..