First Encounter

He stood before me with the same grin that I had seen in his profile picture. I couldn’t place the smile though. It was warm, yes, but there was something off about it. It was affectionate and sincere, but it lacked compassion. Something was just… missing.

The wind tore through my thin dark brown hair, making me feel even more self conscious than usual. It was a cold and damp day, as it was near the end of November, and the air smelled like rain. School had let out not ten minutes earlier, and I came to the stone stairs in the three sided courtyard that separated the middle and high schools less than five minutes ago, and my nerves had been high strung through all of that time. I had spent the past five days preparing myself for this moment, and it had finally come.

Over Thanks Giving Break, I’d met this guy that goes to my high school online. I know it’s not the safest thing to meet people in person that you’ve met online, but we had over 250 mutual friends, and I was optimistic about him. I’d sent the friend request, and he accepted it not an hour later. He messaged me five minutes later saying, “Hey.” I will admit, I was a little shocked, but I responded to his initial message with one just as simple. “Hi c:.”

And so it began. We started talking five days ago, and  in the first night, we’d stayed up until 4 in the morning, and sent over 1000 messages. He’d told me he thought I was attractive, funny, nice, smart… It was almost too much. He made me feel good about myself, which doesn’t happen often. So he asked me if he could meet me in person after school one day.

He smiled up at me, as I was nearer to the top of the steps, and he was close to the bottom. He climbed the steps two at a time until he was on the same step as me, and turned to face me. His warm eyes were enlarged slightly behind his black, modern, and wide lened glasses, and they were the same brown-green color as mine. I could feel them boring into me, as if studying me as some sort of treasure, giving me chills that were not caused by the weather.

His smile widened and he pulled me in for a hug, stopping my chills in their tracks. He was warm and gentile with me, and having him pressed against me protected me from the harsh wind.

“I’ve been looking forward to doing that for the past five days,” he breathed.

“I…” I was at a loss for words. He still had me in his arms, and normally if another guy had done that to me, I would have panicked. However, there was something… different about him. I looked away and blushed. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for the past five days,” I replied.

His grin grew larger than  it had been before. He let me go, and the cold returned to my body. “So,” he said coolly, “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Umm.. Sure?” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. He was different from a lot of other guys I’ve met. He seemed to have more of a glow to him, drawing people into him, like me. He had the same dark hair as me, but his was more of a chocolate color, and you could tell that it was dyed, but still looked natural.

He held his land out to lead the way, and I gladly walked by his side into the crisp November Wisconsin air. “So,” He said, “tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Well…” I began, “There’s not much to tell. Like I said when were talking on facebook, I’m in 8^th grade at the middle school. My birthday’s August 8^th and, I’m 5 ft. 9in. I have medium length brown hair, the same brown-green eyes as you, and I’m extremely pale.

“That’s not exactly what I meant…” he started. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me, his voice soft, and his eyes boring into me again. “I want to get to know you, the real you. Like… what kind of music do you like?”

“I like all kinds of music,” I began “except country. Too preachy for my taste. I love music you know… I play five instruments and I sing.”

“There, was that so hard?” he beamed. 

I blushed and looked down. I don’t like making a spectacle of myself for people I’ve just met. The thing is, normally I’m really extraverted and outgoing, but something compelled me to be introverted and reserved around him. In fact, I’m usually totally crazy, and love to have fun, but it’s almost as if I’ve become a different person around him.

We continued walking, and we reached the end of the courtyard, and turned left towards the half of the campus of our schools reserved for the high schoolers. “What about you? What kind of music do you like?” 

He gave me a half smile, “I like everything except country too,” he breathed, “and the fact that you sing is awesome too, but the fact that you play five instruments? I mean, Jesus, doesn’t that take a lot of time?”  

“Not really. Besides, I wouldn’t mind if it did. I find myself happiest in band class with my clarinet, or in choir than in any other class.”

“That’s awesome.” He beamed. I could feel myself blush.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at him for the first time with sincerity.

“So what do you play?”

“Piano, clarinet, flute, organ, and saxophone.” I said proudly. “But I’m best at piano, and it’s what I love most.”

“You have a lotta talent,” he said making my alabaster-pale skin blush red with color. “And passion. I like that.”

Like? What does he mean “like?” I thought. I disregarded the thought of it. Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t “like” you. You’re not even gay. Besides who in Pewaukee is gay?...

“I’d love to hear you play sometime. I’ll bet you’re fantastic.” I could feel my cheeks turning a soft shade of scarlet with every complement he gave me. I never feel like this. I never feel this good, no one has made me feel like this before. Yeah, I’d gotten complements for my playing before, but I never felt like this when I got them.

“I’d love to play for you sometime.” I replied.

He beamed and stopped to study my face. “Are you ok?” He asked with some concern, “you look pale… really pale. Are you cold?” The truth is, I was am cold. I’m freezing, and I’m in only a thin grey hoodie. That’s why I was so reluctant to have him let go of me before, because the cold autumn air was quickly transitioning to winter air.

“I’m actually freezing, aha.” I said, and I could feel my arms go around themselves as a subconscious reaction.

“Here,” he said taking off his crisp, white, Hollister sweatshirt. “Take my sweatshirt.” He held it out for me.

“I can’t take that.” I said stammering a little. “It’s yours.” It was a stupid excuse, but it’s all I could think of. I don’t like accepting gifts. I always feel like I have to repay people sometime.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He said firmly, but with subtle care.

Reluctantly, I took the sweatshirt from his hand, and as I took it from him, his hand brushed against mine, revealing to me just how soft his skin really was. What the hell are you doing?! Stop. You’re not gay, and you know that. But still… Everything felt… weird.

I pulled the sweatshirt on, and as I did, I regretted doing it immediately. It was still warm from his body heat, and smelled like him. Yes, now I’m warm, but now I feel so awkward. When I feel awkward, I feel so weak, and I hate that feeling.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” I said in a small voice. He gave me a weary smile that made me feel even warmer.

“Awesome. Hey, can we quick go into the high school so I can pick some stuff up from my locker?”

I didn’t know what to say. Half of me told me to run, and the other half told me “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sure,” I said with an airy smile trying successfully to hide my un-comfort.

We turned and headed into the high school, walking in through the front doors around 30 seconds later. He led the way through the halls that I would be walking next fall. I didn’t really know my way through the high school, because the only classes for the middle school that are held there that I take are French and Band. He led me down a hallway directly forward from the front doors for about 40 feet, and we took and immediate right, and up a staircase to a second floor to the sophomore hallway. When we reached the top, we went right down the hall past the rows of lockers. The halls were empty for the most part aside from the occasional custodian, teacher, or straggling student. Finally, we had reached his locker, the fifth row down, and he stopped and turned to retrieve his things.

He did the combination to the lock, and revealed a locker that was just as messy as mine, if not messier than mine. “Pardon the mess,” he mused.

“Aha, it’s fine.” I smiled.

He reached in and grabbed a knapsack that had the faint outlines of books, papers, and pens visible through it.

“Do you like skittles?” He asked.

“Umm.. yea.” I said, not sure what to make of the question.

He reached again into the locker, only this time to the top shelf. He pulled down a family sized bag of skittles, and handed it to me with a smile, then turned back to look for some books and papers. I took a small handful of skittles, and popped some of them into my mouth, the sweet taste of fruit tingling my tongue.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile trying to hand back the bag.

“You can keep it, it’s yours,” he said without looking at me. This time, I was a lot more generous with my handful.

“Well, do you want some?”

He turned to me and gave me the same soft smile I’d been looking at for the past 20 minutes. “Sure.” He thrust his hand into the bag, and took a small amount of skittles and popped them in his mouth in the same  manner that I had done before. “They’re my favorite you know. What’s yours?”

“My what?” I asked.

“Haha, what’s your favorite candy?” he asked finishing up packing his things in his bag, grabbing his school laptop, and closing the door on the mess in his locker.

“I donno.” I said. “I love chocolate, and skittles. I guess just anything that has those in it.”

“Seems legit.” He said. “Sooooo…” He began.

“Sooooo…” I responded.

“Wanna play the question game?” he asked brightly.

“The what?”

“Oh come on?!” he said turning to me, stopping in his tracks. “Do you seriously not know what the question game is?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” he said quizzically, “I suppose we’ll just have to educate you.” I snickered at this. He used the royal “we” for effect, and it really did the trick.

“Alright,” I said, storing the skittles away in my bag, “educate me.”

He grinned at me. “Well, it’s simple enough. We go back and forth asking each other questions. The only rule is that you can only ask one question.”

“Simple enough,” I said. “You start.”

We started walking again, heading down the stairs, and turning left this time, heading for the front doors. “Alright, what’s your favorite color and why?”

“Red,” I said immediately, “because it’s the color of passion.”

He raised his eyebrows at my answer, and I regretted saying it the moment I did. I’m a really poetic and sappy person, and a lot of people don’t like that for some reason. “That’s so cool. I never thought of it like that.”

I felt the tension loosen in my face. “What about you?” I asked. By this point we had reached the doors. I really hated going back out into the cold, but my mom was  going to pick me up in front of the middle school.

“Well, I don’t exactly have an answer as deep as ‘the color of passion’ but I like lime green, because it’s exciting and fun.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Now you ask,” he said eagerly.

“Favorite movie?”

“Oh god there are way too many. I like a lot of stuff. You?”

“Same here.” We were walking back towards the stone stairs where we had arranged to meet. I could feel myself becoming slightly more comfortable around him as I spent more time with him.

“Okay, what’s your favorite subject?” he asked.

“That’s not fair.” I said.”I told you that earlier that they were Band and Choir.”

“Oh yeaaa.” He replied. “Well then, what’s your least favorite subject?”

“Math,” I responded the moment he asked. “I hate it with a passion.”

“LOL, are you not good at it?”

“No, I’m actually good at it. It’s that I find it to boring and I don’t apply myself. Usually, I waste the hour writing stuff and listening to music.”

“Aha, I hate it too.” He said with a wink.

A wink? I thought, What’s this guys deal? I mean, I know he told me he thought I was attractive when I had talked to him before on facebook, but that didn’t mean anything. I said it back, because it was true. He had soft features, nice eyes, and his hair was perfect. I can’t deny facts, but still…

“So you write? What do you write?”

“You’re breaking the rules again.” I said with a melody to my voice. “Now I have ask you.”

He laughed. It was a sweet, and sincere laugh that made me quiver. “Alright. Ask away.”

By this time, we had reached the steps again, and we walked halfway up them, and sat down next to each other. I pulled out the bag of skittles he had given me, and we began to snack on them together. He was close to me; close enough that our thighs brushed up against each other if either of us moved. Even though we were both fully clothed, I could feel the heat from his skin through my jeans. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was weird.

I popped a skittle in my mouth. “What’s your best class?”

“Graphic Arts,” he said, “without a doubt.”

“What’s that?” I asked, even though the closeness of the situation made me want leave and not look back, something kept me there playing the question game with him.

“It’s this class where you make designs on computers and stuff.”

“Ohh,” I said, “Kinda like Computer Pub. I took that last year, but I sucked.”

“I’ve never heard of that class,” he said with a puzzled look on his face.

“Didn’t you take it in middle school?” I asked.

“I didn’t go to middle school here,” he said, “I went to Butler, and then to North last year, and transferred here this year.”

“Ohh… well, do you like it here?”

“It’s meh.”

“Yeaa, well, Pewaukee is kinda meh,” I smirked.

He studied me again in silence. I could feel his eyes surveying me, like a work of art, or a piece of land. I felt uncomfortable, and I could tell he could see it written on my face. I just continued eat the skittles slowly, looking forward, trying not to make eye contact.

Finally, the silence had become too much for me, and I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off. “Why don’t we keep playing the question game until your mom gets her,” he offered.

Relieved that I could meet his gaze again, I agreed.

“Favorite band?” he asked.

“Coldplay, you?”

“One Direction.”

I’d never met guy “Directioner” before.

“Least favorite?” I asked.

His face contorted into a look of disgust, “Slipknot,” he said with repulsion.

“Ew, same”

“Hmmmm,” he muttered, “most awkward moment?” He asked.

“Oh, you mean besides this?” I said with a smile.

We both laughed and continued playing the so called “question game” for the next 30 minutes waiting for my mom to get here, and with each question, I could feel myself loosening up in his company. As we played on, we learned a lot about each other. Though he may not seem like it in the way he’s described above, he’s a very soft-spoken person, and is usually very shy when he meets people for the first time, like I am right now. I’m uncomfortable around him, it’s just that being with him felt off. It’s not that I didn’t like him; I did, a lot…

Finally, were left with only five more minutes. “So…” he said.

“So…” I replied.

“I really like you,” he said.

“I like you too,” I smiled at him.

“Is there… is there any way I could see you again tomorrow?” he asked running a hand through his thick brown hair, and blushing for the first time today instead of me.

I thought about this for a moment. I wanted to, but I was still scared for some reason. Not of him, but what of all of this meant. The hug, the sweatshirt, the skittles… Was this all somehow a joke? I wondered.

I considered all of my options. I could run for it, but I doubted that would solve the problem, and something gave me the feeling he wasn’t afraid to run after me, and he would eventually catch me. Another option was the just say no, and walk away from him and the whole awkward situation for good. Or, I could say yes. I mean, he hadn’t actually done anything to me, and even though the situation was uncomfortable at first and I hate to admit it, I had fun. After much consideration, I opened my mouth, and replied, “Yes,” with a weak smile.

His smile was radiant with the thought of seeing me again. He pulled me in for another hug as I saw my mom pulling up from around the corner.

“I’ll message you tonight,” I said with anticipation in my voice.

“Alright,” he said letting me go from his arms.

I pulled off his sweatshirt, and tried handing it to him, but he said, “Nahh, you keep it. You need it more than I do,” with a wink.

I smiled wearily, and climbed into the passenger seat of my mom’s SUV. I had made it through my first experience with him. It was awkward at first, but I had made it. But there was still something about his smile… That thing I couldn’t place… Something had been missing…

The Conflict of Cancer

It is the end of the year, and I have not only made it through another year, but my last year in middle school. One skill I had yet to refine was "Conflict Resolution" so I decided to write my last essay of middle school on it in an effort to try and score a 10/10  in this area in our schools's writing rubric. 

“The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.” Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare. as John Green explained in an interview after writing his book, The Fault In Our Stars, he modeled the title of his Novel, after the quote from the play Julius Caesar. Green states that the quote means that we cannot blame fate for any misfortune we may have in life, but we only have ourselves to blame. However, this is not the case in Green’s novel. He gave the novel that name that name, because he meant it to be a misnomer. The entire focus of the novel is living life with cancer, and you cannot choose to have cancer. Thus they were dealt this hand in fate, and the fault does lie in their stars, giving off a “person vs. self” style conflict. No matter what, whether the fault lies in our stars, or not, this novel beautifully demonstrates “person vs. self” style conflict

The initial situation of The Fault In Our Stars is not the happiest of beginnings. Essentially, the story surrounds the topic of “What is it like to have cancer as a teenager?” So, as our story begins, we can assume that this novel is not for those faint of heart, or for those looking for a “feel good” novel. The story follows that of Hazel Lancaster, a sixteen-year-old girl without any purpose in life, except to wait for her stage IV Thyroid Cancer to force her to expire. She is a reclusive person, and her parents fear that she is becoming severely depressed. (Though depression is common among teenagers, and is normal with growing up, with the cancer added, it is a recipe for disaster.) Hazel later recounts in the novel that, “I’m a grenade, I just want to stay away from people, and read books, and think, and be with you guys, because there’s nothing I can do about hurting you,” meaning that with her cancer, she is like a grenade that could potentially detonate at any given moment, and she wants to have as few casualties and people hurt when she goes as possible. With this, her parents fear for her, and have decided: Hazel will be attending a cancer support group. This decision of Hazel attending “Support Group” (as it is simply referred to) is the “explosion” of the novel (a.k.a. the Initial Situation), and sets the stage for the rising action.

Once Hazel starts attending support group, she is immediately bored out of her mind. She is forced to sit through an hour of hearing other people’s stories, and listen to other people’s problems, so she usually tunes out. However, things begin to pick up one day when Hazel’s friend Isaac brings his friend Augustus Waters with him to support group. Hazel is entranced with him, and even strikes up a conversation with him after support group. This is known as the “rising action” or conflict of the story. Though this novel does not have an antagonist, the story does have a type of conflict. They type of conflict in this novel is “person vs. self” meaning it is the person inwardly fighting with oneself. This is demonstrated when Hazel says “My body is slowly trying to kill itself. The cancer cells inside of my body are made from the same cells as the rest of my body, and my body made these cells.” Now, the more conventional way to interpret “person vs. self” style conflict is typically  thought of a moral/emotional conflict, however, it can be taken as a physical conflict in this case. With this constant feeling of her body slowly trying to kill itself, she becomes introverted and closes off to the world. However, when she meets Augustus, she begins a relationship, romantic or otherwise, with a person for the first time in her life. Soon after, they are sharing, books, picnics, and late night phone conversations that dwell on into the wee hours of the night. Hazel’s meeting Augustus, and her relationship with him is known as the “rising action” of the Novel, which is then followed by the “climax.”

The rising action in a novel/story is typically followed by the “climax” of the story. Now, by stating what the climax of this story is, I would be giving away the plot of the novel, and it would be pointless to read. However, the author does hint at what will happen throughout the novel. When Hazel first meets Augustus at support group, the topic they are discussing is what they fear. Most of the other people said they worried about losing their cancer battles. However, when asked, Augustus states he “fears oblivion.” It is then proceeded to be explained that what he means is that everything, life, and humanity will end, and after humanity is gone, there will be no one left to remember any of the accomplishments of humanity. Augustus fears that after he dies, there will be no one left to remember his accomplishments. This concept of no one remembering you is similar to that of “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand. Howard Roark strives to leave his mark on the world, just as Augustus, and often is faced with difficult decisions, which could be considered the “person vs. self” conflict found in The Fault In our Stars.

Though her body may be trying to destroy itself with a “person vs. self” style conflict, Hazel remains strong throughout the novel. The fault in her case, as in every other cancer patient’s case, does lie in her stars, and not in her actions. The “person vs. self” style conflict is clearly demonstrated in the initial situation of Hazel’s parents sending her to support group, because of her inward struggle of not only trying to protect people she loves from herself, but from her cancer being a part of her, trying to destroy her. Nevertheless, whether the fault lies in our stars, or not, this novel beautifully demonstrates “person vs. self” style conflict

Text Analysis On'The Road Not Taken'

In language Arts, we were asked to write an essay for our district writing exam. We were given no specific topic to do our essay on, so I chose what I felt was one of my strongest areas of writing, analysis. I chose to do the analysis on not exactly symbolism within the piece, but double meanings, and perhaps what the poet's intent was when he wrote the piece. I do feel writing analysis pieces are one of my stronger areas in writing, however, I feel as though this is one of my weaker overall pieces. I felt as though it was slightly rushed, even though I was given plenty of time. I just feel as though I am trying to fit all of my ideas into too short an essay. Either way, the piece is done, and I have tried my best. Either way one thing is for sure. The words of Robert Frost are  beautifully immortalized in the poem "The Road Not Taken." 

“The Road Not Taken”

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

“The Road Not Taken”

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

This is perhaps one of the most often misunderstood poems ever written. It is often studied in high school English classes as a piece  written to express feelings of making difficult decisions in life. This is only one way to view the poem. One can either interpret the poem of its literal meaning of making difficult decisions, or one can interpret the piece as being a personal reflection of the author. Though the poem has many different ways to be interpreted, only one thing remains for sure; the poem “The Road Not Taken” remains a timeless classic about either the struggles of making decisions in life, or is a reflection of Frost’s life.

Right from the first line, Frost uses imagery to not only paint a vivid picture in the reader’s mind, but to give symbolic meaning to the piece as well. Frost describes the wood as “yellow” in the first line, meaning that the season is autumn, and the wood is shifting colors. It is interesting that Frost chose this particular season, as that autumn is the season associated with dying. (This is not to be confused with winter, which is the season that symbolizes actual death as opposed to dying.) This gives one the sense of fleeting time, which is the way to interpret the poem as making difficult decisions, as we only have a time limit in life, and time is fleeting. The poet then states “And sorry I could not travel both (roads)/And be one traveler, long I stood” which if taken literally is the poet stating that the traveler has come to the fork in the road, and must now choose which path to take. This adds to the overall more popular theme of having to make difficult decisions in life, and shows that we must take our time before we choose which path to take in life.

“And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth;” are the closing lines of the first stanza. Quit literally, it is the traveler peering down the road as far as he can. However, it could also be taken that in life, we may try to look down the paths in the metaphorical “fork in the road in life,” but we can never know for sure which path will lead us where, hence the bend in the growth. Though these lines separately add little meaning to the less popular meaning of the poem of the authors personal reflection of becoming a poet, instead of something more conventional to his time, together they do. If one takes the whole stanza, one can assume it could very likely represent Frost stating how in his life had to make a choice; to either become a poet, or something more conventional. The traveler trying to look down the path is Frost trying to figure out which way to take in the metaphorical road in front of him. Frost has no way of knowing where either metaphorical road will take him, as he has no way of seeing all the way down the paths. With this, the first stanza ends, which then abruptly runs into the next stanza.

With the end of the first stanza, which can literally be taken about making difficult choices in life, or could possibly be the author reflecting about him becoming a poet, the poem then abruptly states “Then took the other, just as fair,” In the more popular version, this could show that the time has run out for making one’s choice, and the traveler has made their choice. However, this is where the poem is often most misunderstood. The name of the piece is The Road Not Taken, and later in the second stanza Frost states, “Though as for that the passing there/Had worn them really about the same.” This shows that the roads had been traveled to equal measure, and were equally worn. However, this conflicts with the second to last line in the final stanza, “I took the one less traveled by.” This would make sense with the popular way of interpreting the poem of a symbol of making difficult choices in life. However, the contrast between these two lines is great.

In one of the lines, Frost is describing the road as equally worn in the line from the second stanza, but in the line from the last, he is describing the road he chose as “The road less traveled.” So, we can only assume this is not what the author meant when he wrote the poem. From what we may inference through text evidence, and through research done on the poet’s life, it is safe to assume that the poet could be describing his own life. When Frost says “Had worn them really about the same” this could possibly mean that both paths have been chosen by others, however when he says he chose “the road less traveled” in the final stanza, this could mean that he chose to become a poet instead of something more conventional, and though many people had failed, he succeeded.

Though the meaning of the poem could easily be taken as one of making difficult decisions, it is not the only way to interpret the poem. Frost gives the reader many indications that the poem is in fact a reflection of his own life and experiences as a poet. In the poem, Frost states “the other (road) just as fair” meaning, the other road or “path” in life is just as equal in opportunity. Frost had no way of knowing where this “road” in life would take him, or when he will reach the end of the road, but he chose the road to become a poet in life instead of something more conventional in life. Though the poem has many different ways to be interpreted, only one thing remains for sure; the poem “The Road Not Taken” remains either a timeless classic poem about the struggles of making decisions in life, or is a reflection of Frost’s life.