Life sucks, and then you die.
Sure hope it's better in the next life.
What is the next life? she wonders. Is it another world? Is it another dimension? Is it Heaven or is it Hell? Or are we reborn into a new lifetime without any recollection of our former life or lives? Or maybe we do remember, and we avoid making the same mistakes we made before. Although, if that were the case, everyone would be perfect and nothing bad would happen. Doubtful, don't you think? She does.
As she is descending the stairs one day, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall. She stops to get a better look. Her hair is big and frizzy. Her cheeks are pale. The freckles covering every inch of her face are easily visible. She finds herself dreadfully plain. With a sigh she turns away from her reflection and continues down the stairs.
Life drives her crazy, but she lives for it. She lives for the thrill of kissing her boyfriend passionately on her bed as they listen attentively for footsteps on the stairs. She lives for the way her touches her. She lives for orchestra. She lives for music. She lives for books. She lives for paper and pen. She lives for everything and everyone... But herself.
