Passersby’s judge as she stands silently looking down at her shoes, snow crunches beneath her feet, and breathing in the coldness of the night air creates trembles throughout her skeletal body. Her chest moves slowly up and down as she exhales, her breath creating a moisture laden atmosphere, her pale lips tremble in anticipation for feeling, for anything. Standing here could be a lonely and unforgiving place, she knew only too well of the long curious nights and the loathsome strangers that surrounded her on a nightly basis. This was a dangerous game, an evil game, her game. She watched as the unknowns around her flashed their disapproving gazes in her direction. She no longer cared about the opinions of these people; she only cared about the decisions she had to make. Help was no longer an option for her, it never was. The only path available to her was the one she had chosen. Torn clothes, rolled up papers, long nights and dark days this was all she had ever known, her happiness was created by the corruption of others. Lost memory, lost family, lost dignity, all a creation of her blissful utopia, her appearance crumbling in its effects. There was no pity here just need, need for more, it strangled and suffocated her, ripped and overpowered her, a demon she could not fight, an evil she couldn’t contemplate taking on. Snowflakes fell upon her decaying hair, once an illustrious golden blonde, now resembling a dark mahogany. The flakes landed on her weary face, melting into the groves of the lines laid there too early from the effects of her obsession. Closing her eyes she felt the wetness drip slowly down her gaunt cheekbone travelling down her neck creating what she could only describe as a beautiful tremble, a feeling other than pain and dependence. As she watches the faceless strangers drive slowly past her deciding on her fate for the night she unzips her jacket showing her pale crumbling thin skin and brutalized body. She watches as the tinted windows with strange men move slowly closer, the closer they are the quicker she can find her demon. Waiting in the corrupt darkness, she looks down at the snow beneath her numb feet, individual snowflakes sparkle, it is the most beautiful thing she has ever witnessed. Tiny mirrors of crystal sparkle around her as the street lamp hits upon her weak mind and body; it is hypnotizing and full of complete beauty, something she has never seen before.
"Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status quo.