Sprawled across the grass and gazing at the sky, May laid in thought. Not so much thought as frustration, that formed incoherent, jumbled fragments of thoughts in her mind. She grabbed the grass out of the ground in fistfuls and thrust herself upright. She took a sharp breath and put her back against the grass once more in an attempt to calm herself. May really didn't like feeling anything but happy but it was proving to be difficult. Wally, a friend since she was young, was growing sicker by the day, and at this point she felt as if she was just watching him die before her very eyes. Brendan, another close friend, had self confidence that was plummeting miles each minute and was becoming increasingly suicidal. She didn't have time to think about Steven leaving her with only a Pokemon and a letter, she didn't have time to worry about herself or her feelings. Brendan needed her, but Steven didn't. Wally just wanted someone to talk to. One of her friends was dying physically and another had a dying soul. She didn't want to face the reality that was becoming ever so evident: she was alone.

And so she'd have to deal with it, simply put. She needed time to herself, to assess her feelings and emotions, to mourn what was to come. But she knew she needed more time than she had. She needed time to sort her emotions out and to make the best of the time she had. But she well knew she didn't have time to do both. She also knew that mourning the future, or at least what seemed certain, was futile. Because nothing was ever truly certain to happen. She gazed at the sky for a moment longer before her decision was finally reached.

She'd trudge along, sobbing and disgustingly, despairingly, sad, because even though life hadn't been fair, it was far fairer than death.