She pushed. She pushed as hard as she cold. Her vision blurred and her face burned. Every muscle in her body felt useless and dead but alive and on fire at the same time and only to break down as a failure for the millionth time since she'd been old enough to contemplate the meaning of the activities surrounding her seemingly miserable life. Pushed through the far too experienced eyes for fifteen was a hot and salty reminder that left the too-well known taste into her mouth. Her guard was let down and emotions spanning from anger and guilt and pain all the same broke down the dam that held back the tears. Feeling useless she wished to be small. Small like Alic in her Wonderland of Dreams but even in that land there was evil, whom shared the same maternal origin as goodness. Displaying that which is true in the world, and that all things good and bad and nice and naughty and sad and happy are so closely related into one thing that seperating them into categories is useless. As useless as she felt. To be small could give her the lack of feeling but the wrath of innocence would take it's toll again making her grow as Alice did with her pastry after falling...falling...falling..

The feeling of being small is that of which she's never known. But that which she did. To be able to meander through the rain that life brings down on you unnoticed but often dominated would be her best dream; and her worst nightmare. Rain does an amazing thing. While it drowns out helpless life it blooms flowers, as do tragedies in life.