ModerateAtBest
There's an unmistakably thin line between love and hate, between life and death, and between everything and nothing. Decima is living proof of this. Clove, her neighbor and probably her only friend, can't stand his chem partner's painful happiness, her constant flirtation with death, or her poignant pointlessness. Nobody likes the extremist, but everyone loves her all the same.
Life is a fucking joke and I'm a nihilist and a jerk, so this story sucks and I'm sorry, you probably shouldn't read this.