He was falling, falling hard, falling too hard, falling fast, falling too fast.
But if he put it into perspective, he always did. Fall too hard, too fast.
It wasn't the first time Joe Lucas had heard that, had said that.

He wanted someone to catch him when he fell. No, he wanted her to catch him.
But, honestly, when does something work out the way you want it to?
The answer was quite honestly never.

Now, in the face of heartbreak, he was wondering what happened if you hit the bottom.
Because if someone didn't catch you, you hit the ground pretty damn hard.
He realizes that the pain doesn't come from falling, but from landing.

Life wasn't like a game, where you had extra lives and chances.
No, there was no "try again" button to get more lives. No rings or coins to collect.
You have once chance, and if you blow it, you blow it.

Life was a racetrack, not of Mario Kart, but of NASCAR.
There's no snowman guy to catch you if you fall off the cliff, if you turn right instead of left.
Instead you crash, and if you crash, you're out of the race.

It's a track of danger, of death, of depression, of darkness.
It wasn't hard to give all you could, and yet take the road in the opposite direction.
But just because you're losing doesn't mean you're lost.

He had tried, did all he could, gave everything.
But that road was not for him.
Hope to see you on the finish line, Stella.


A/N: Reread it, and it's ridiculously short, but... sigh. Oh well. I wanted to write it, and I did. I hate short things, but it was kind of fun. :) Please review, tell me what you think of my cliche little drabble...