There is an empty classroom, hidden between stories on and two of an immense academy building. It sits filled with chairs in corners, and desks crammed against walls. It smelled of dry wood and had a sight of darkness that stood for years. But if you looked in the darkness long enough, with determination set in sight, you could see a black chalkboard. Written on, abused, tainted - it wasn’t empty, it never was. It had as much life as the room could get. And amongst the chaos of wasted chalk was a diagram. It presented the guide to an eye, from the colored surface to the back of the veins.

This eye diagram blossomed a companionship between two young ladies. They shared little in common, but when it comes to the few similarities, it takes no hesitation to notice their black hair, pale skin, flushed complexions, and hazy green eyes. One knew family, and one couldn’t stand to remember much.

Modilyn was around 13 years of age, and Rumani was just as young. Class would be interrupted with the occasional explosion outside and they would appear like geysers of rocks and dirt. The occurrences were of randomized timing. Though shocking for a brief moment, it became normal. And it became normal as well to see other things like an entire flock of birds which may have fallen dead for unknown reasons. Or even storm clouds that grumbled in shades of black and sounds of discomfort. During this time of odd, seemingly otherworldly events, Rumani was a girl with a temper. She lived with her father and her cousin, Renni-Tuk, who she called Ren. Her mother had been stricken horribly by terminal illness, and ever since she passed, Rumani couldn’t stand to feel normal. Thus, she failed to try and understand academic topics in the slightest way.

As for Modilyn, she was a Nobody. Nobodies, in their society, were “children born out of unknown circumstances and backgrounds.” It was even rumored that “Nobody'' was a cover-up term for those under an impared spectrum, physically and mentally. They were often flawed and were labelled as misfits in contrast to the norm. Modilyn, though having a bad arm, was deemed perfect. She lost her “misfit” label, and was treated well, as were other fortunate Nobodies. She had a knack for psychology ever since she was introduced to it, because others saw something “wrong” with her and for a long time, that's what surrounded her life. Instead of understanding herself, she wanted to understand others. Therefore, Modilyn agreed to privately tutor Rumani.

Rumani felt restrained in this desk, and she glared upon Modilyn who began with a huge circle on the chalkboard. Whether she was speaking clearly or muttering, Rumani couldn’t tell - she failed to listen. Rumani began to pay more and more attention to Modilyn’s arm rather than what Modilyn was doing. After having her head down for a long time, she looked up and saw Modilyn staring straight daggers at her, with one hand frozen mid-writing. Modilyn then said, “can you look?” Rumani obeyed willingly. It was explained to her that the retina was part of the eye. It allows you to see many things, and to recognize things with signals to the brain. Modilyn lectured that lights could cause your eyes to work too hard, especially on a high brightness spectrum, which can then injure the back of your eyes.

After talking a bit, Modilyn tugged at a chair and sat in front of Rumani, facing her at the same desk. Rumani then sat up with discomfort. 

“I do not know you, but I can still say this - as it applies to everyone. Never reject knowledge and assistance. It is a currency never worth wasting.” Modilyn said this as Rumani stared at her, lacking emotion. She felt criticized, but rightfully. “When too much light is applied to the shadow of vision, the retina proceeds to work hard in a more intense way that can cause migraine and fatigue. I want the opposite for you. However, I can’t do much when you, the retina, fail in limited light work.”

Rumani responded spitefully, “no child, a prodigy even, can make me want to spend time to understand things I have no concern in knowing, for what is simple in your eyes is wretched and unfathomable in mine.” She gave Modilyn one irritable look, and spat the few words “my retina is tired.” Modilyn felt a struggle coming on.

“I am no prodigy. If anything, I am lesser than you.I just happen to know what it takes to know a thing or two. It doesn’t take much work to get there, please don't be so hard on me nor yourself. I only came to assist you.”

Rumani’s eyes softened. At last, one person took the time and patience to guide their way to reasoning with her. What parts of her she deemed unfixable seemed mended. And just like that, with a silence and a diagram of the human heart afterwords, a friendship arose between a troubled girl blooming into adolescence, and a kind girl who lived lowly and struggled so much but put that aside and knew that Rumani was no fool, no idiot or rebel, but a human being. And it takes greater representation of humanity to mend such human emotions. Struggle is one thing, but tolerance is another. 

As their friendship proceeded and they became older, Rumani settled down. She felt at peace, she tried her best. She was perceived as a level-headed and reserved girl, and her 12-13 year old persona seemed unrecognizable. Modilyn was still as quiet and kind as possible, but she gained a sense of sarcasm.The two felt so normal in a world that felt so torn. Everything was going haywire, land was shattering and politics shuffled in constant moods. They had to keep their current condition at a steady level. They couldn't let this lifestyle affect them, and they didn’t. But soon, roles reversed. Who was once reserved became out-of-touch with what was real. Who once lacked a connection with her mind watched her dearest friend fall apart. But often, Rumani would remind Modilyn: “Time is a feeble construct. It does not determine improvement. You do this on your own, you are no feeble construct. You are a temple and a mechanic system of effort and relation. You are relative to success, and revel in a darkness you should not drown in, because that does not guarantee escape.”

As Rumani ponders on elements of her life and mind, she envisions a girl with shoulder-length black hair, and a rustic prosthetic arm. She envisioned, in this girl, a blatant piece of evidence of the neglection in which the authority casts upon youth. She was a girl who Rumani could then return the favor to, a girl who she could thank with actions and words, and a girl who she wished welfare upon. And her mind whispers to this girl, “thank you for teaching me the diagram of the eye.”