As I sit here now, alone in the cold darkness, watching the vast night sky swirling above me, it truly hits home that one day I will die, and in fifty, perhaps one hundred years, no one will remember my name, and my hands, they shake in fear, feeble, like an old woman's, the dark vastness I stare into, this emptiness known only as space, will never truly be understood, it makes me shudder in horror, so many mysteries I'll never know the answers to, so many people in this world that I'll never get to meet, only a small handful in the grand scheme of things, my name won't be in history books, I'll be the unknown figure in the background, the forgotten card, left from it's deck, the broken pencil on the classroom floor, the one who always went an extra mile for some people, pushing further, and getting nothing in return, sitting quiet in class, not speaking, only listening, letting people forget I was there, hearing the secrets meant only for the most trusted ears, many secrets have been ensnared in this mind, and if I were to let the right one loose, it could destroy a reputation, one spark, that's all it takes, to begin a vicious, raging flame, remember that, things I could leak, and slowly rip and tear a reputation to the ground, ripping a person down that low, it hurts to watch, but in the end there is a reward, knowing that they thought you didn't know, seeing the questions in their eyes, watching them try and find out who told, and they never guess it was the quiet kid, oh no, she's lost on her own world, not listening to reality, but she is, always, don't forget that, because the quiet one's are always the most dangerous.