Order and neatness are complete and utter wastes of time, I'm sure of it. They make you late for dates; disable you from being able to move forward; to simply enjoy life. They are also what killed me, so that's to be accounted for, I guess.

Did you read that right? Did I write that right? Yes and yes. I'd get right into how it all happened, but you need to know a few things, before I do.

Now, before my immature yet inevitable death, I was…something of a wildcard. Imagine your stereotypical, roughly nineteen year old girl (we're talking American Pie and then some). Now imagine her with a hidden love for books, meditation, and music.

I'm not proud of the fact, but that was me, almost to a T. But, hey, that's the point of being young; to be stupid and reckless and having the opportunity to learn from your mistakes, in order to grow as a person.

I'll completely skip over my childhood, because that's become a blur, even to this day. Instead, let me begin on the day of the big event, because even some of my teenage years are a little fuzzy.

I had woken up to a sore neck and wind chimes sounding through the partially cracked window in my bedroom. My eyes remained closed as I stretched and reveled in the warmth of the sunrays pouring in, the warm spring air accompanying it having created a blanket to replace the real one I had kicked away in my sleep.

"This calm is so nice," I murmured, fondly recalling the pounding beat of music from the house party I had gone to the night before.

Sighing serenely, I finally managed to drag myself out of my comfortable space and move down the empty hallway of the one-story rancher.

I reached the empty kitchen, ate a simple but filling breakfast, and then moved into the empty living room. The rest of the house was void of life, as one could guess, which is what I was used to and preferred.

Heck, I would have thought that something was wrong, if either of my parents had been home. They both only worked a few days per week, but were early risers, and had both given up on trying to rouse me any time before noon. The term "night owl" probably had a picture of me next to it in the dictionary.

"Time to fill another empty day with equally pointless activities." My bored gaze shifted over to the nearest window, staring over at the desolate driveways that outlined the suburban Limbo I had found myself living in. In the last nineteen years that I had lived in Pax Township, nothing exciting-good or bad-had ever happened.

Not one single thing.

It was unnerving, really, and left many of the town's youths listless and yearning for adventure. To be honest, I was becoming a rarity, as many of the people I had graduated high school with had fled as soon as they had their diplomas in their hands.

I would have joined them, but my dreams breached way beyond the stars, and the colleges I had my eye on weren't exactly handing student loans out like they were party favors. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, without much chance of escape, and my stubbornness was keeping me glued firmly in place.

On that day, however, I was particularly restless and essentially needed a diversion. I knew that I wasn't about to spend the entire day at home, that was for sure.

I slipped into a pair of jeans and a plain red tee-shirt, before throwing a pair of tennis shoes on, making my way out the door and down the street just as the clock struck two pm.

I had gotten a few blocks down the road, mind jumping from thought to thought, when quiet crying ripped me from my bout of daydreaming. I searched for the commotion, wondering what a kid would be doing out of school on a Tuesday afternoon, before it dawned on me that I was right in front of Alice Franco's house.

Alice, you see, had a full-blown case of dyslexia and needed about two extra hours of tutoring on top of the help she got at school, per day. Her parents had tried a handful of different tutors, but none of them had really been experienced-or patient-enough with dyslexia to keep their sessions with Alice consistent. I had been their last choice and, seeing as I had squared-off with the disorder, we had sort of…clicked.

So, on most weekdays and the odd Saturday at five pm, I'd sit with Alice and help her work out her reading and writing skills. It helped that she was a very imaginative 12 year old and would practice her penmanship by writing stories. They were vividly descriptive and original and could give some published novelists a run for their money.

I scanned the area for the girl's blonde mop of hair, and caught the very top of it in her tree-house, a demure smile tracing my lips as I moved towards the large oak it had been built in.

"Hey, Alice!" I called, listening intently as the crying quieted. I counted to ten in my head and waved as a tan face poked out from one of the windows of the structure. Her eyes were watery with unshed tears, and her face was ruddy, but she still managed to smile at me.

"Violet! What are you doing here?" I cast her a "What do you think?" look and crossed my arms.

"I was taking a walk, but then I heard crying, and found a certain fifth grader who is not where she's supposed to be. What happened, Alice?" The girl's happy façade dropped as her eyes searched the ground for something imaginary. I felt my heartstrings being tugged as moisture slid down her cheeks.

"Everyone keeps making fun of me, Violet. They keep saying that I believe in baby stuff and to grow up. What's so bad about believing in Santa or the Tooth Fairy? But I keep thinking that they're right…all the other girls care about is their nail polish and talking about which boy is cuter." I bristled at her explanation and down-trodden expression. I knew that lots of kids had to go through others questioning their belief in beings that many found childish, and had experienced it firsthand, but I also knew that Alice had every right to believe for as long as she wanted.

"There's nothing bad about believing, Alice, and don't you dare believe anyone who says otherwise. You're only a kid for so long, kiddo. Enjoy it and don't let anyone hold you back. Heck, I'll help you rig a trap for the Tooth Fairy, if you want. Deal?" The girl sniffled and nodded, a genuine smile lighting her face at the prospect.

"Deal! I'll tell you when I lose my last baby tooth." I nodded my confirmation, happy to have helped her restore her smile.

"Good. Your parents canceled me for today, because of some work-related dinner, so I'll see you tomorrow." Alice became a little more somber, but didn't voice her disappointment, nodding good-naturedly instead.

"See ya'. Oh, and…thanks, Violet." I gave a three-fingered solute and wandered back onto the sidewalk, content warmth spreading through me as my feet carried me anywhere.