Rain.  It falls and hits many things.  It nourishes and maintains life.  It keeps people like you alive.  It keeps the farmers growing their crops.  Some people love it.  Others hate it, but at least they acknowledge it.  At least they care to see that it’s there.  I want to be like the rain.  I want to be life for others.  I want to be what keep s people going.  I want to be loved and hated.  I want to be seen.  I want to be like the rain.
These words flowed through my hands, off my fingers, onto keys, and onto the computer.  I posted them online for the world to see.  The world seemed to take more notice of them than they did to me, and the words I had typed didn’t get much to begin with.  I sighed and kicked my chair back, sitiing on only two legs.  I wished then that my mother was around to scold me when she saw me doing that, to accutally take notice or even care that I was.  She wasn’t though.  School wasn’t much of anything to look forward to.  It would be just another day to come, another day to pass.  I looked out the window at the city below me as it rained, sending streaks upon my window.  I reached my hand out to touch them, to try and talk to them in some way.  
They gave me no comfort with the glass separating us from each other, so I walked over to my thin bed and flopped down, reaching out to turn the light off.  The dark gave me no consolation.  No one could see me, not even I could see me.  I supposed that that was a plus on some days, one of the few that ever came around.  As the rain tapped against the glass, I listened and imagined I heard them talking in my sleepy deleriousness while I pulled the scratchy wool blanket over my head.  I despised that blanket.  My dad had got it for me.  He was a wealthy business man, who probably had something to do with the building of the suite I lived in with my mother, with the location of the building, and the window in my room, but he couldn’t get me a comfortable blanket.  He probably did what he did for my mother, so that way she wouldn’t complain too much when, not if, she caught him next door or somewhere stupid sleeping with some other woman who probably did waht she did because had kids of her own who needed feeding or because she had some insatiable thirst for sex like society had made many people out to be.  They hadn’t labled me, though.  They didn’t know I even existed.
I was on the verge of drifting to sleep when my door opened abruptly, throwing in light on everything in my room.  I sat up and growled underneath my breath as I looked into the light to try and see who was there.  “He’s awake now,” I hear my mother say.
“Thanks.”  It was my friend Chanter.  He had been doing the best that he could to help me with my lack of notoriety or whatever my problem was, but it seemed to me that his interest in helping me was failing, waning, diminishing like the clouds as it rained.  I thought that I knew the reason, too.  Chanter walked over to me and stood beside my bed.  I grumbled more and turned the lights back on.
“I was sleeping.”
“Sorry about that.  I had something to tell you.”
“What is so important that you had to wake me up from a state of being where I’m acctually seen on a few occassions?”
“It’s about Cor.”
“Ugh, God, not any more about her.  I’ve had enough with you smothering the fact that you got her and I didn’t all over my face, in every crevice and creace on my face.”
“I’m not intentionally doing that.”
“Well, you’re still doing it.”
“She’s coming over tomorow to my place to-”
“Get laid,” I snorted.
“No, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing.  She wanted you to come over and see her so she could see you.”
“Well, tell her I’m not interested in screwing her with you at the same time.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about telling her.  You should stop by and tell her yourself.  It’s not like seeing her will cause you to stop existing.”
“I barely even do.”
“Well, when you come to your senses, I’ll see you.”  Chanter walked out of the door.  I was serious when I said that he seemed to be loosing interest in helping me.  He’s even flaunting his new found girlfriend in my face every time he gets the chance to.  Corinth was a drop dead gorgeous girl, slender and tall, black hair and well defined features.  I tried to talk to her, but she seemed to brush me off and is only now coming around to me after jumping on Chanter when we approached her to greet her the first day we met.  That was the problem  I think.  I should’ve gone alone.  It was too late to do that, though.  The door shut as Chanter left, and I released my head and let it fall onto my pillow.  The rain was still tapping on the window, and I let it sing me to sleep.  
I woke up to my mother yelling at me for the fourth time in the past weel.  I had overslept and was an hour late for school, not that I cared.  My mother’s high pitched, metapausaly fueled rage was too mach to take in the morning.  I was surprised that it took her a whole hour and something to realize that I wasn’t awake.  With a weary breath, I got up and grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my back, loosing a few half finished homework assignments that I didn’t care much about as they flew out of the unzipped pouch.  They didn’t matter today.  It was a day to give the teachers hell.
“Why did you stay asleep so late?” My mother squaked in my face as I walked to the door.  “Have you lost sense of all priorities in life?  Are you listening to me?”
“Two birds with one stone,” I said, turning around, “my life hasn’t got any priorities right now, because no one cares, not even you.”  She stood with her mouth agape as if about to speek.  “It’s seems your speechlessness proves me right.”  I walked out the door and left it wide open.  I passed Chanter’s door on the way down the hall to the elevator, cursing it in my head as I went by.  I couldn’t believe what he’d become.