Hey peoples! I think the next drabble is going to be the last one for this fic; can't believe I started this in August. I've started working on a nonfanfiction story and have striked a fancy for writing poetry about blurred colors, the moon, stars, flowers, and traveling. Needless to say, my fanfiction productivity is on the back burner for awhile. Anywho, hope you enjoy and because the last drabble will not be up before the holidays, I wish everyone a joyous holiday season. :3
Everyone is slowly dying Anybodys concludes. Everyday, people wake up, get older, sicker, and further from their youth. It's an upsetting thought, but Anybodys is not one who likes things sugar coated. She likes things put honestly, drenched in the vinegar of reality, as bitter as that may be. But as she sits across the street from the only old folks home in the whole city, she thinks maybe it wouldn't be that bad, dying young; Riff and Tony did after all, and they always knew what was best.
Maybe it's because the old people all look so—miserable. Anybodys doesn't want to spend the last years of her life sitting in a room with her face to the wall. She sort of feels bad for the old people, because she figures if their families dumped them off here, obviously they don't care about them anymore. And that's not how she wants to go either; she's been forgotten about in life enough. Being forgotten about in death is about as bad as it gets
At least, Anybodys figures, when you die young, people remember you. They morn you, hang pictures up of you, bask in what you did in life, and remember you. So she sighs, and wonders if it really is easier to die as a child.