"Unconsciously we all have a standard by which we measure other men, and if we examine closely we find that this standard is a very simple one, and is this: we admire them, we envy them, for great qualities we ourselves lack. Hero worship consists in just that. Our heroes are men who do things which we recognize, with regret, and sometimes with a secret shame, that we cannot do. We find not much in ourselves to admire, we are always privately wanting to be like somebody else. If everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes."

—Mark Twain.

It was as if I could see every molecule rushing in and out of my mouth with each breath, feel every vessel in my bloodstream making its voyage from my heart to my head, and hear the photons blasting from the bright ceiling light hanging above me, piercing through my eyelids. The world around me was overwhelmingly complicated, made up of things the likes of human beings could never hope to comprehend. But, enveloped in the chaos, I found an unfamiliar sense of peace and clarity. I knew I would never feel like this again—I couldn't, because in a few minutes I would be dead.

The warm feeling flowing from the back of my head felt like all the worries I'd ever had were leaving me. I knew instantly that I had achieved it—the thing I had fantasized about ever since I was a young boy. Enlightenment. It's a word often associated with religion—but in reality, religion has little to do with it. Whether you're Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, or any other religion, enlightenment is a state of mind achieved through only one method. It was only when I was lying on that damp concrete floor that I realized it—enlightenment comes from one's own death. A parting gift that you can only experience in your last moments. It was a sick joke, what use is enlightenment if you can't use it? I was naïve to think that someone like me, someone with such awful luck, could make a change through sheer will. What could I do if I couldn't even preserve my own life?

These stories usually begin with my name, or maybe I'd introduce you to my friends and family. Unfortunately, in that cold, empty warehouse, I was alone. Though, even that is misleading—because outside of that warehouse I was also alone. Cliché, sure, but I have no parents or family left at all. An orphan named Valentine. I was told that my parents wanted a girl, so they must have been pretty disappointed to see me pop out. In truth, I am a pretty boring person—a real life background character. I'm sure that most of my classmates don't even know what my voice sounds like. Would they know of my death? Would they even care? I can't blame them, though, because I don't care about a single one of them either. I've never thought of myself as anti-social, but something in my early childhood must have messed up my sense of connection. It sounds really embarrassing, but how could I call myself an enlightened one if I didn't reflect on my past?

This Buddha was preparing for the afterlife, I was sending prayers to every god I knew (a sight that, thankfully, no one was there to see) for a smooth transition. It was just as I was closing my eyes that I heard it.

A voice sounded from behind my head, "Yo! You aren't dead yet, right?"

Who? Who was this interrupting my one and only final moments? Couldn't I just die in peace? Really? I wanted to feel angry; this was my moment after all. But my heart wouldn't listen, the once slowing rhythm picked up again, and I felt the words "please save me" form in my mouth. I guess I was more desperate to live than I thought. Then I passed out. Thinking back, that was certainly the luck that I so desperately needed.

Time was condensed into short blinks. One moment, the damp chill of the warehouse clung to my skin, and the next I felt myself being laid onto my warm bed. My head's throbbing pierced through my veil of sleep and into my dreams.

"Should we invite him?" The boy asked.

"Who? You mean Valentine? No way!" The other said in a hushed voice.

"He's right. Don't you remember what he did to the kid in the year above us? He's a total weirdo!" The third said.

They do know I'm in the classroom with them, right?

It didn't bother me anyway. Well, at the time they did. But this wasn't real, the throbbing pain seemed to press on the entire classroom. I glanced out the classroom window to distract myself, but it wasn't the view I was used to. There wasn't a view at all.

 As soon as my eyes opened, I turned off my alarm.

Seriously, what's even the point of an alarm if I wake up before it every morning?

 "What are you still doing in bed!?" She wailed.

Ouch. You might have thought someone had just died, but that's Caretaker, my 'guardian' assigned after my parent's passing. It was as if she loved the sound of nails on a chalkboard so much, that she decided to mimic it like a bird with every word she said.

"What's your problem this time?" I groaned with little patience. My head was pounding, and I couldn't recall why.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way! You're going to be late for school if you continue lazing around in bed!" She continued.

"I have an hour and a half before the bus even gets here." I shot back.

Thankfully, that was enough to silence her, because she quickly slithered away. My head, and other parts, felt awful and I considered skipping school. At the same time, though, it felt like I woke up from an incredibly peaceful dream, one that you'd rather stay in forever. I tumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, it wasn't like this place was any better than school. Turning on the faucet, I gravitated to the mirror since it would take a minute or two for the shower to heat up. The young man staring back really was a sorry sight. His sickly pale skin decorated with two rotten circles under his eyes. His long ringlets of dark hair that rolled down onto his face. I never had the greatest self-esteem—but for some reason, I felt particularly good about myself this morning! My eyes moved to the top of my head, revealing white bandages haphazardly wrapped around my head like a cheap mummy costume. Then, the face in the mirror was completely masked by fog, leaving me to be on my own. It wasn't a dream after all.

I admit, I was so shocked that I'm not even sure I properly cleaned myself. That entire morning was a blur until I reached school.

How did I get home? Was it that mysterious person? Who were they? How did they even know where I lived?

So many questions and I had no idea how to answer them. I was no detective, and the memories of the previous night were hardly a complete picture. Thank you head injury.

"Is there something more important we need to know, Valentine?" Mrs. Piggy asked.

Her name wasn't really 'Mrs. Piggy,' but I never got a chance to ask her to remind me of her actual name. She just reminded me of a pig.

"Sorry?" I said.

"Can you tell me anything about what I was just talking about?" she clicked, turning the entire class's attention towards me.

I let out a fake cough, "It was…" I trailed off.

"Do you even know what class this is?" she questioned with a backtrack of random snickers throughout the classroom.

"It's math," I replied confidently.

I spent the rest of the class in the principal's office. So much for enlightenment, I couldn't even get my classes right. School was a dead end anyway—you don't need a high school diploma to become a monk. I think. I received a detention; it was just another one I wouldn't be attending. I swear I'm not some delinquent, my high school was genuinely just the worst. That's not out of spite or hatred, but truth and honesty. I decided to skip the next class to relax my pounding head. I'd already gotten a detention didn't I? After a stop by the vending machine, I headed to my favorite spot to hide—a small rectangular subarea in between the cafeteria and the gym. It was a place that had no cameras, and nobody would visit it during class (unless you were skipping like me.) Fortunately, I was the only one that frequented the spot, which is why I was shocked when I saw someone lying down against the wall.

I grimaced, this was the worst-case scenario for someone like me. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it seriously sucked. I mean, who even goes to sleep on the floor of the school? While skipping class? It was supposed to be my spot. I quietly tiptoed and crouched over her body. I couldn't see her face; she was facing the wall.

I surgically pinched a bundle of her hair, inspecting it. It was incredible, whiter than snow—but not in the elderly way. It's hard to explain the difference between her white hair and that of a senior citizen's, but it was undeniably different. It didn't lack the vitality that the dying hair of a grandmother's had, it was undeniably healthy. I didn't recognize her in the slightest, though, even with her unique hair. I wasn't surprised, I didn't know the vast majority of people in that school, much less the girls. I only wished she was facing the other way so I could get a good look at her face.

"What the hell are you doing…?" It took me a second to realize that it came from her, and when I did it felt as if my heart did a reverse-gravity bungee jump out of my mouth. I jumped back and fell on my rear, scurrying all the way to the other wall.

"I'm so sorry, I just thought—" I started.

"What? That I was asleep? You thought you could fondle my sleeping body? What the hell is wrong with you?" She interrupted, getting up from her resting position and slowly turning my way.

I'm so screwed.

"Nothing to say?" she belittled, revealing her face underneath her unkept hair. "I guess I'll go report you for harassment then…"

"No! No don't do that! It's not that serious, please calm down!" I pleaded with my hands out like a prayer.

"I think you're the one that needs to calm down, look at you," she laughed, "I'm just messing with you."

 I could tell she wasn't staring at me, but the wall behind me. I had no idea why, though. It didn't matter; I didn't need eye contact to feel completely squashed by her presence. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about her was—special. Oppressive.

"I'm sorry for touching you, I've just never seen you here before, so I just got a little curious. Please forgive me." I said, now on my knees.

"Get off your knees idiot, you haven't seen me here before because this is my first time coming here." she continued laughing.

"So, er… why are you here, if you don't mind telling me?" I asked, now sitting politely.

"Why else would I be in this strange, isolated place?" she grinned.

"Um, to skip class?" I guessed.

"No," she started laughing again, "it's to see you, obviously!"

I immediately lost my polite attitude; I could only wonder why she would be looking for me. The options weren't good, but considering her jolly demeanor, I held off from dashing away just yet.

"Why would you be looking for me?" I squinted, analyzing her, now in full view. At first glance, one thing was immediately obvious. She was incredibly beautiful! If she tidied up her hair so that it wasn't so aimlessly flowing down her face, she would look like a manufactured idol! Though shocking, I didn't let it intimidate me. After all, pretty faces are no weakness of mine!

"I wanted to check up on you. Did you think I'd just patch you up and send you on your way, huh? Am I your doctor?" she tilted her head. 

"Huh?" I responded.

"I asked if you thought I was your doctor."

There's no way… right? This giggly girl couldn't possibly be the one that… no way. This random girl!?