I once heard that that was one of the worst ways to perish, but I beg to defer. No, the worst way to die has to be watching passers-by see you, and then decide that–
That feeling–nothing can surpass that. Waiting here, in this eternal world caught between death and life, no story to change my fate, has to be worse than simply drowning, because with every set of inquisitive eyes that turn away, I grow more and more doubtful. And then the voices start. *I’m not enough.* Even when I tell myself I am. *I’m not eye-catching*. Yes, I am! My creator thought I was, so surely someone else will, too!
But then people leave, and the water turns to ice, and once again I’m trapped.
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