Usually, when people look at me, they're just looking for the source of the smell. How I smell at any given moment is a direct reflection of the people around me. If boobs stick out too much, I might have to go in the bathroom and fap. I can't let that happen. If I'm in a group of loud people, I'll just fap right there. If everyone else is laughing at crude jokes, I'll giggle nervously. I was always picking my ass, like a chimp, just so I could have something to flick in people's soup. But one of the most amazing feelings is being near a girl who has on so much perfume she doesn't notice my musk. She is oblivious to my bouquet of gingivitises, oily sweat and double-crusted fruit of the loom briefs, so she fails to avoid me. And so, she's always nearby, just so long as I refrain from trying to make small talk, like a menial conversation about the weather, or how the leaves look gently drifting to the ground. She has no clue how desperately I want other people's help, so she'll just try to stay out of the way. But when I'm down, she'll be the first one I think of when I use my hand. When I walk in the park during autumn, she wouldn't ask if she could tag along with me, rather, she'd just walk with her friends as I follow her without consent, without a word. She wouldn't say anything, but she would lightly giggle, and give a gentle smile toward her actual friends. And as I stalked in the cool, brisk afternoon twenty to fifty feet behind her, leaves falling around me like snow, I'd feel my stress, my worries, and my fears slowly build to an intolerable crescendo. My mouth would slowly tug at its corners, a sensation that I should have long forgotten. I'd take a look at her face, the warm face that was crying at the simple treasure of life itself. And after all this time, I could finally feel myself returning a genuine smile as well, as I pull the knife out and the voices stop.