Momo Sayuri had just ten years of age under her belt when she was asked to give a speech to the 4th-graders-to-be, she stood proudly on the podium and said, slowly, almost as if she was reciting it, “Living is like playing Jenga. Don't. Jump.” Needless to say, it was an odd thing to state, especially at such a celebrative event, and it puzzeld the staff quite a bit, what could she have meant by this? Surely she was just being plain old unpredictable, overdramatic Momo right? At the time, they were most likely correct, after all, the time interval between the night when her mother took her Playstation and her making that statement was suspicously small. However, to this day, whenever they reminisce on this moment, they can't help but be filled with pity. How horiibly ironic life could be. But many have asked why, why did this statement become such a huge cause for head shakes and back-pats, why did the glorified whining of a child gain so much relevance, not even a year later?

Maybe it was because her family was reasonably well off, or because her house was by the beach and it’s soothing breezes. Maybe it was because her father and mother had a playful side, and weren’t hesitant to get on the floor and build Lego robots with her. It could even be because they had discovered a wonderful surprise growing inside her mother.

Although perhaps more reasonably, it was because her father quit his accounting job to pursue an unsuccessful music career. Or because of the hair he had pulled out and the bottles he had emptied in vain of the ever-piling bills he could no longer pay. Maybe it was because Momo noticed he was staring at her more than at her mother. Maybe it was because he called her inside during a pool party and took her to his room. Because he locked the door and removed his clothes, then asked her to do the same. Maybe it was because she asked him to stop touching her that way, but he kept telling her to hush. Maybe it was because she cried, but that only seemed to give him more energy.

Or maybe because he didn’t actually lock the door, and her baby-bumped-mother walked in on them, a tray of cookies in hand. Maybe it was because she threw the tray at her husband, drawing blood from his nose unto Momo’s face. It could also be because her mother pulled Momo’s naked body out of the bed with so much vigor she dislocated her shoulder. Or because her mother screamed at him to get out, and 3 hours later he was trudging out of the house with a bulging suitcase. Maybe because Momo tried to reach out to his shrinking form but her mother angrily pulled her back by her throbbing shoulder.

Maybe it was because a week later, the surprise turned out to be a still-born, not a baby sister.

7 Years later, some teachers still bring up this quote before shaking their head in lamentation, they would never find out the primary motivation behind it, especially when there were so many too chose from. But perhaps the reason a ten-year-old gave such a painfully insightful comment to children barely younger than herself, was because all the aforementioned events occurred within the span of a few months, and the strings holding her together were already starting to break.