An old-fashioned pocket watch lies on the surface of a mahogany desk. Its numbers are like eyes, staring blankly without really seeing. It is banged up and rusty and broken, but not unfixable. The hands are frozen as if time itself has stopped; but outside the small room life goes on.

Once, gears turned and mechanics whirred underneath the face of the old pocket watch. Once, the hands ticked and the face gleamed and the numbers stared at the world like eyes, watching with curiosity and excitement. But one by one, the gears stopped turning. The mechanics slowed to a halt, the machinery faltering and stumbling until finally falling down, unable to get back up. And still, life goes on.

But the pocket watch is not unfixable; nothing ever is. All it needs is someone to come along and pick it back up, to dust off the parts inside and get the gears turning again. And life will go on.


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A pale, thin girl lies on top of a bed. Her eyes stare blankly at the ceiling of the room, not really seeing at all. She is banged up and hurt and broken on the inside. Her fragile mind has reached its breaking point; she cannot go on. But outside, the world is awake and bustling with the everyday sounds of people and cars. Life goes on.

Once, the girl was full of life. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy and her eyes possessed a sparkle that has long been gone. She was alive; she danced in the rain and smiled at the sun and laughed. She laughed, a sound high and pure that hasn’t escaped her mouth for as long as anyone can remember. But, day-by-day, she fell silent. She didn’t laugh, she didn’t dance, and she didn’t smile. She fell down one day, and she couldn’t get back up. But still, life goes on.

And the girl is not unfixable; nothing ever is. All she needs is someone to reach out a hand and pull her back up, help her back on her feet. All she needs is someone the repair her broken soul, to help her understand that although there is pain, life goes on. And that doesn’t mean that she has to stop caring. It doesn’t mean she has to stop trying. And it certainly doesn’t mean she has to stop living. She can keep on dancing and smiling and laughing right through the pain, and life will go on.