Life...
An endless cycle of yes and no's, right and wrongs, do's and don'ts, failures and disappoints. It's all just a never ending routine of pointless gimmicks all put together to make our time on this planet a living hell. Yet, if you walk up to any random happy go lucky Joe on the street they'll mostly say something like 'life is what you make it so grab it by the horns and take control!' but what happens when there are no horns to grab onto? What do you do then? If you were to walk up to that same Joe and then pop out that question he would most likely shower you with 'ums' or more pointless overly used quotes about how you haven't found your 'purpose in life' yet or whatever, but what happens when you've tried searching but you still found nothing?

What happens when you have spent- no not spent, spent is not the correct word... wasted would be more like it- wasted your entire life trying to find one. Just one place where you could belong. A single solitary place where you could just fit in.

*

Rain falls like small liquefied crystals from the heavens, coating whatever it lands on its cold moist embrace. A lone soul, a young female, trudges slowly down an overused slab of concrete returning from yet another day of back breaking labor at a job that pays her next to nothing.

Long chestnut strands of a ponytail, sway back and forth behind her behind her with each step, her soaked worn out red and black sneakers squeaking as they crash into yet another puddle further soaking then more. She tugs at a midnight hoodie, pulling it down further to cover up what little of her face is still showing. Light aquamarine eyes twinkle in the light reflected light of the standing water on the ground, while the rest of the area surrounding her remains dark, echoing the sounds of the night along either her every movement.

Her tall, sleek figure soaked to the bone as rain continues to drench her body, still she continues to trudge, slow and alone, down the pointless slab of concrete to a bed that she doesn't even wish to inhabit at home that she doesn't choose to call her own but is forced to anyways by strong grip of life.

This is the way of life nothing more, nothing less. For some they are fine with this kind of life. Succumbing to the pointless repeating events never wanting anything else in life, but for her...she knows there is something more. That somewhere a better life is waiting... calling for her to come and grasp it in her warm eager hands...but she still has yet to answer it's call.