Your life is usually a very blank place. A canvas waiting to be filled with something more than itself. You have always believed that maybe if you picked up the brush and closed your eyes, something beautiful or magical would happen. But of course it doesn't. The first time you tried, you were twelve and you wanted to fly. So naturally, you jumped from your four story apartment with a kite strapped to your back and fruitless dreams. Long story short, you almost broke your neck, actually broke your mother's bank account, and never tried ever again. You consider yourself miserably lucky that your spine didn't snap in two when it should have. Then you wouldn't of had to see your mother painstakingly peeling dirty bills out of her yawningly empty wallet, (wallet because your grandfather had no sons so he left his favorite wallet to his third favorite girl), while she was paying for your groceries or the distraught look on her face when your landlord asked for the rent a month early, (you never liked your landlord, she had far too many offspring and a sour face). The year you were officially a decade and a half old, that was over, because your mother met Bill and hope was alive again. He elevated you to the middle of the middle class, got a nice house in the suburbs for the three of you. You don't remember much of Bill, you know he was very generally nice, plain, you suppose is the word. You know he was obsessed with your mother, who stuck with it probably mainly for you. You've never dared to ask her, if you're honest. But you're not really. That was also the year you tried again. You met a girl who you were woefully perturbed by, who didn't know what to make of you and decided the only way to find out was to attack you with her mouth any time she got. She told you it was called "dating" but you weren't ever really sure. She took you to parties and made you fit in the role she wanted you to be in. She treated you like Silly Putty, and you let her because you were a quarter of the way in love with her. She took your virginity at one of those parties, or at least she said she did after the whole pregnancy scare she faked. You fell out of love remarkably quick after that. She is a part of the short, ongoing list of women you've dated. Though, in all honesty, you think you've given up at four decades old. This will be your third try.