It frightens me to realize how fragile we humans are. How insubstantial and weak our bodies are. How temporal our existences are. How fleeting our victories are. How easily replaceable we are. We're nothing. Almost nothing. Always running on empty. Always expecting, waiting for someone to pick us up. For something, anything to move us. Only to end up bitterly disappointed in a mess of memories and insecurities.

Hell, why did I even think that someone like me could ever come close to a happy ending?

I'm just another her. Just another pathetic excuse for you to stay around before something better comes along. But it doesn't matter, really. We are all temporary anyway.