• What is life to you?

    Is it a gentle breeze blowing over your scalp? A mighty gust every so often against your fragile frame? Or is it a constant storm upon your body that forever pushes you backwards? And when you do finally fall backwards, do you fall upon a soft cloud that shall lift you to higher places? Do you fall on the cold hard ground, and just lie there, like an overturned beetle trying to get up? Or, do you fall upon a bed of spikes, laying there as you stare at the blood slowly oozing and drying on the steel as you stare on with your last minutes of breath?

    Life can be a breeze, or it can be a storm; it depends on how prepared you are for each gust.