Her Life rested in the cup that was formed by her two hands. Hands that were rough and scarred, and yet she was young. She seemed beaten by the trials of the mundane, but somehow managed to follow along on foolish adventures that she wanted no part in. Life, meanwhile, radiated the brightest blue and white and begged for more adrenaline rushes and more mistakes to “grow” from. Life pulled her along like a raggedy doll, and she was helpless to its calls for glorious stupidity.

But Life never realized how vulnerable it really was. Life never understood that one fall could lead to the end, for both the girl and Life itself. Life just went on living, more worried about the next fix than the next paycheck. More excited about the next movie than the next wedding. More depressed over the lack of booze than the lack of companionship.

Life was just another fool. It was sad that so many people loved it so dearly.