Just as Brutus served as the gods' tool to bring the mighty Caesar down, I somehow caused my brother's ankle to collapse on the curb. He crumpled to the ground, along with his short-lived glory. So she didn't help the two tanned, tough-looking basketball players out. If one of them sprains his ankle, that only gives her time to get away safely. Our world is so superficial that it's hard to distinguish televisional fantasy from reality anymore.
People are predictably shallow and one-dimensional.
It's simply a struggle to gain success and popularity for these misinformed lab rats. Perhaps it's better that those types of people avoid me. I'm not going to put up a brand-new cardboard face and call it me. I'm not going to betray what shows up in my reflection or inside my skin. To get people to take notice of me is, no doubt, a Sisyphean burden.