Hmm, I need to talk about being strong.

A little girl sits alone by the fountain, waiting. She watches as the water flows down into the hole and then comes back up again. She knows she has to go, but she's not ready yet.

Too early, too young, too innocent.

The fountain starts to make noises. Again. 

Tears fall from her eyes, adding to the fountains wealth; until it's filled, until it's alive and beautiful. Again. She watches, smiling. Again. Proud of her work. She'd built it up, every part of it her effort. Her hours of long, hard work, her hours of crying, her hours of being strong and pretending to be. Again. It all paid off, to see the fountain lighted up, beautiful, filled. Happy. She didn't care when her eyes hurt, her heart broke, her knees scraped from kneeling, her back sore from bending, her head hurting from trying. All she felt, now, was pride. Proud of her baby, her hard work. 

But she has to keep going. She has to keep crying, she has to keep feeding, she has to be there all the time. But she can't. She has to go out of that garden. Make her own life. She has to be a fountain, she has to go out to other gardens, discover other fountains. She's got a whole world out there, and she needs to go and find it. She really wants to stay here, stay here and never move, never leave. But she's so tired. So tired. She can't live with crying all the time, feeding all the time, giving her life and time and her tears to it, so much so that she has none for herself. She's so tired she can't even stand up; but she's gotta be strong for the fountain so that he'll be happy.

She can't do it.

She can't smile, pretend everything's allright. Pretend it doesn't hurt, pretend she's selfless. She wants so much to be that kind of person, but she can't, no matter how hard she tries. It's all so heavy, and it's a burden she can't carry.

So she leaves.

Runs away and never looks back.