The clock read 1:08 a.m. - still early for her, much earlier than it would be for most people. She was alone. Her boyfriend worked nights and when he was home he wasn't much company either. She spent nights awake dreaming of the future, mostly scared but also hopeful. She made plans to cope with the fear. Plans for future careers, weddings, homework, hanging out with friends, where to eat dinner, etc. but she never ended up doing any of the things she planned. She was a planner; not a doer. She wasn't much of a fan of anything. She was constantly becoming whatever the people around her wanted her to be. She tried to be successful in life but failed miserably and almost everything she tried to do. The feeling of failure was the feeling she was most comfortable with. Which is saying something because she was almost never comfortable with anything. She laid awake staring at the ceiling making plans. Plans to go to work, to be a star, to finally become somebody. She made plans for how to end. But she never would. And that was the saddest plan of them all.