Strings connect us to other people, to objects, to places, and even to ourselves. We're all puppets for the most parts, and we all are held together by our own abstract strings. When the strings-however tenuous or faint or weak they originally were-break, we collapse into ourselves. And it's not just our strings we have to worry about. When we cross paths with other people, part of our string goes with them and theirs comes with us. That string being broken could be the catalyst to the rest of your strings breaking, tearing you apart from the inside without your consent, with no way of protecting yourself. Sometimes these strings are our only guide to life, and sometimes they hold us back, tying us up, not allowing for change or a move forward. The strings inside of us represent the most fragile part of us, the parts that make up the whole, and the fabric that holds us together. Choose your strings wisely. I won't say that all things are survivable, only that every instance can be survived, except for the last.
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