(A/N): This was written gradually, over time, written and re-written and finally taking shape. And now it's done.

The lost girl, the one all the Others told me to leave alone, lies hunched over in the darkest corner.

All the Others told me not to touch her, not to speak to her, to leave her alone, to let her live in her own misery... the misery she's had for countless eons.

Apparently, she used to have friends here, but they are gone now, they've disappeared from existence because they were nothing more than forgotten memory; they couldn't remember anything, so they're gone.

So I go to her, and I see what makes her misery.

And she tells me of what could have been. She tells me of everything that could have been. The others said that she had lost her sanity to the witch long ago... but somehow, I know that she speaks the truth.

She tells me of a time when she was alive, when she was sane. When she was happy, or would have been, if she'd only realized it. When she could have been.

She tells me of this time, what she can remember of it at minimum, and says that she can't duplicate it, that she can't make happiness.

That she can only make despair and horror and loneliness.

That she isn't real, isn't true, isn't right.

She screams several times, randomly. It seems she's schitzophrenic, controlled by two sides of herself with different goals that can never be satisfied.

"Another way... an other way... there's another way to win... there's an other way to win... another way to win and escape... an other way to win and escape..."

I look back at the Others, and they act as though we're not there. Or try to. I know they are looking, searching, waiting, looking, for the right time, the right opportunity, so that they can look back at me once I turn around.

I'm the talk of their town, I'm the only one alive here. They are waiting for me to die, the Others; they know it's coming soon, the day that I will join them and forget my memories. But I still need to talk to this girl, while I have flesh and blood, and what little happiness I have left. But I have a plan.

The girl is fading, fading, fading...

She says nothing for a long while, then she speaks.

"You aren't going to win. I almost won, and that was the closest we ever were to closing this place forever. Now, look at us. All of us. We're all dead, and there are how many of us here? Fifty? A hundred? More than that? You won't win. There's no need to give me more hope to lose."

Fading, fading, fading...

I ask her what I need to do. What I must do. She almost won. I can finish the job for her.

And she tells me an answer I don't understand.

"Memories are meant to be forgotten, until we see them again."

And then she's gone.

But I will always remember the lost girl, the one that told me how to beat the witch that trapped her and more than one hundred others in a sick trap-world.

Because she gave me a clue.

Memories are seen again, hallucinating in a deep mist...

And that's where the Other Way Out is.

Speak with sadness, everlasting,

Let your life fill with joy in passing,

And when the days of darkness fall,

I will be waiting there for all.

If your life is a place of sadness,

If you just wish for hints of gladness,

Please just leave the rest to me,

Underneath this old oak tree.

Something is significantly

Hoping that this world is a tragedy,

And that in its sorrows, see,

It could be happy like me.

(A/N): I don't know how to conclude this.

Thank the world for poetry and tragedy.