I'm sitting on this desk.

Of metal and wood mixed with the uncertainty of a presence.

Never knowing whether a person would sit down on the chair laid upon the table's contents or rather... would it be just another lonely day with my head resting upon my palm up and my elbows adjoining with the cold, hard surface.

Alone with my head propped up and waiting.

Alone... waiting.

Whether you'd pick this seat or that seat determines of your fate. This girl by the name Kate, now would you tell me if you'd rather I hate?

It's just another phase, they say. And I've been stepped on for too much to rather stay quiet. I gave up, gave in, and now I'm learning how to save myself from hurting.

It's either that seat or this seat. Just pick and hope it's worth it. Because the next time, when you pick that seat--over there where you're not known and if you're even wanted--then you'll find it... too late.

I've already given the seat for you to take.