Falling in love sucks. Don't you even fucking dare think about fighting me on this shit, okay? I have firsthand experience. It. Fucking. Sucks. You grow up seeing all these little cute and happy things about how cute and happy love is. When you fall in love everything just seems right in the world. No wrongs can be undone, all the bad parts of life just melt away until it's all fucking roses and sunshine, or whatever shit they say it is.

What a load of fucking crap.

This falling in love shit is supposedly such a "good" thing, but when in hell has falling ever been good? When you fall down a flight of stairs people don't congratulate you. No, the first thing they're going to say is, "Are you alright?" (again, I know from firsthand experience). Of course you're not going to be alright, you just fell down a fucking flight of stairs! But you force a smile, lie through your teeth, and say that you'll be fine. You won't. You'll end up with a fractured ankle. I'd rather do it again and end up breaking half of my bones instead of falling in love. It hurts less.

Now this was more of a sky dive type of fall, except with a malfunctioning parachute. And I was waaay up there. So far up that it took me forever to even realize that something was wrong. Man, I was fucking soaring. I had months (moments) of oblivious bliss. I say bliss, but crash landing on a fucking planet is pretty far from bliss. Whatever, I'm ruining my own goddamn metaphor.

Things sucked, but they weren't all that bad. Sure, Carolina and Church were grade A fucking assholes and every other person stuck down there was so fucking annoying, but it could have been a lot worse. Everyone got along with each other to a point. Simmons even managed to make his own fucked up little garden. The only problem I had was with Agent fucking Washington (and Freckles, but I don't talk about that).

I'm sure he was a great guy or whatever (he is), but he was so goddamn stubborn. I was, am, too. I don't think that there was a single day we went without fighting. Part of me wanted to resent him for being there an acting like he could fill some void, but honestly I think I was happy to have some sort distraction. Or something like that. Whatever. He was stupid and had a giant stick in his ass. I think during that time I made it my life's mission to annoy him in every way possible just to see his composure break. At one point it just became… fun. He became my friend. I probably jumped out of the plane at that point, though I was still nestled deep in oblivion. In fact, the moment I realized the reason was the same moment I found out that my parachute was broken and I didn't have a spare.

When the fight started my first thought went to Wash and to make sure that he was safe, protected. I pulled on the string and the parachute didn't come out. Bullets were flying and my heart was racing. Wash, fight, shoot, stab, Wash. Wash, Wash, Wash. It was all Wash and war up until the very point where he got hit, then it was just Wash. I never grabbed my spare. The ground was so close at that point and there was no way I'd make it out unscathed. I thought, just for a moment, that we would be okay. We were nearly out and all Wash had to do was make it over to us. Simple. Easy. Of course it wasn't that fucking easy.

"Freckles, shake!"

I hit the ground six feet under.

I told you. Love fucking sucks.