So, what do you do when your life comes to a standstill and you look back and see that all the years of hardwork, the blood, sweat, and the tears you've shed to give yourself a place under the sun had come to nothing? And you look into a mirror only to see a face of a stranger, the face of nothingness staring back at you. You've just been reduced to nothing...and the one good thing that's left, the only thing that still makes your heart beat to remind you that you're still alive in the midst of all your dead hopes, might also slip like water through your fingers.
You cry but, no one hears. So, you just hold it all inside, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out in pain. You begin to wish that you could just walk away from this life but deep inside, you know you just can't do that because it's wrong. You don't own your life. You don't want to burn in eternal fire. Hold on, girl, and ride the storm the way you always did before, you tell yourself. There'll still be better days and the sun will still shine for you one day soon, you remind yourself. But, you've heard all that crap before. That same line they kept on saying to you year after year---"Things might be better next year". Yeah, right. You gloat because all the years that came after all felt the same. You'd seen better days.
Are you still even alive? You wonder. You think you still are because you know you are still breathing even if it already hurts to even breathe. You scratch your skin with your nails just to see if you'd still bleed so you'll know you're still alive. But, are you, really? You know, alive? So off you go running, screaming under the rain because you know the falling rain will hide your tears from the rest of the world. You run and run and you keep on running till you stumble and fall to your knees on the wet ground. And, as your mouth tastes the mud, your eyes flutter open and you look up to the heavens, wondering if you'd still be whole when it seems you already feel like you're only half the person you once had been.
Still, you push yourself up on your feet and stand weak and trembling in the cold. You feel so alone. Looking like a drowned rat with your hair plastered wet all over your face, your hands ball into fists. Squaring your shoulders, you tell yourself that you're now ready to start living on the edge of danger.
Ready and willing to take offers from even the most depressed and war-torn areas of the world. Ah, the more dangerous it is, the better. Oh, yes, you're so ready now to go through life the way only a desperado can and will.