My hair falls, scattered along the path I tread with bare feet. Though the wind carries my scent, it lingers where I belong. Sometimes others stand over me, and self-deception inevitably occurs. Without hesitation, I **** myself—and I am alone again. None of them and none of me remain. I have dinner, accompanied by the night’s coldness and the dense pull of the moon. Suddenly, I remember: I need to die at thirty. Yet God asks me to endure life once more, until my last breath intrudes upon my worn childhood dreams. My son... my daughter might miss me, their potential mother, who never... falls in love again. One by one, my teeth dissolve. At thirty, why... does God still want me?