She lived near the prickle bushes. Every day she would walk endless miles to reach an undetermined destination. She kept walking. But she never got there. She always did things for a reason. But she didn't know why she did them. She just knew there was a reason. Her family hadn't made it and she lived in a house with all the other girls in this shallow-lived town who had also, lost everything. But that home was just a temporary cage. She could run to the furthest corners of the galaxies, but she could never escape. So she would just walk. Not really hoping, but just wondering. About everything. One thing she wondered about the most was why some people made such a spectacle of themselves. You're destined to the same horrible yet not-so-glamorous fate as the rest of us. She wondered about a lot of things, but she never reached conclusions. Because as she did, people did things for reasons. But like her, they still never knew why. So she would walk, and she would wonder. She would live a simple, quiet, undeterminably short life. But she would never die. Because in her mind, she would never truly have lived. But somehow, she still did, and if you were to wonder, like her, why people make such a spectable of themselves, you would trace back to her. The girl that walked. The girl that noone knew. But if you wanted to know, She lived near the prickle bushes.
Pale Perfection*
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B R E E*
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