The scene is a small dark room, in the basement of a hospital. The time is three in the morning. The date is of no concern. The issue is sad, disturbing, yet so important. Two people sit at the table. One is dressed in a hospital gown, her hair greasy, and her face sunken in. The other is a male reporter, there to learn.

INTERVIEWER: So, just for the record, what's your name?
GIRL: I go by many, all meaning nothing. It's stupid to give people labels such as names. It's just so that we have something to call someone. So that they can't escape it no matter how hard they try.
INTERVIEWER: Okay...so, mind if I call you Clover?
GIRL: No, should I care?
INTERVIEWER: You won't tell me your name, I would assume you would.
GIRL: No. It's just a name.
INTERVIEWER: Right. Well, you know I am here to ask you some questions about your background, right?
GIRL: (nod)
INTERVIEWER: They're simple questions, so don't be nervous. I am, however, really interested in your responses. And if I am not satisfied, the questions will become harder. Is that okay.
GIRL: What's your first question?
INTERVIEWER: Well, Clover, why are you here?
GIRL: You wanted to talk to me.
INTERVIEWER: Not what I meant. Why are you here? At the hospital.
GIRL: According to the doctors, I am sick and can't get better. I'm waiting for them to stop being stupid so I can go home.
INTERVIEWER: Sick? What type of sickness?
GIRL: One in my head. A tumor or something. Nothing to bad, right?
INTERVIEWER: Aren't brain tumors fatal?
GIRL: You mean like I'll die from it? I guess. But everyone dies eventually, right?
INTERVIEWER: Not according to some religions.
GIRL: Well they obviously haven't met me. Everyone dies. Some sooner than their bodies gives out. That's why I want the doctors to send me home.
INTERVIEWER: I don't understand. Are you saying some people can still be alive but dead at the same time? Isn't that kind of, well, hypocritical.
GIRL: No, it happened to my mom. And I'm sure you know someone it has happened to.
INTERVIEWER: I don't think so. Everyone I know is alive and well.
GIRL: Obviously you're not as smart as you look. Let me explain. My mom had a sort of break down when the doctors told us what was wrong. She started drinking, despite how many times I asked her to stop. I told her it wouldn't help. I would be fine. Everything was okay. She doesn't come visit me anymore. She just sits at home, staring out a window, as my dad tells me. You see, she's dead. Not permanently I hope. Just, she's not alive.
INTERVIEWER: Oh. A lot of people get like that. That doesn't mean they're dead. They just are depressed.
GIRL: Same dif. I mean, I'm the one dying right? I should be dead soon. But I’m still living, because I refuse to give up. Sure there's a tumor in my head, and sure I can't go home, doctor’s fault of course, but I’m still alive. I know that there's I can do. But it doesn't stop me from being happy. I saw a movie yesterday. I snuck out of course. But I still saw it.
INTERVIEWER: How are you so positive? You can day any minute, yet you don't seem to care!
GIRL: Oh, I care! I care more than you can imagine! It's not like I want to die. It's just, I know it's inevitable. So I'm still going to live like nothings wrong. I live without regrets. That doesn't mean I go and get drunk to get rid of my problem. Or take drugs to get high. I just live.
INTERVIEWER: Wow. No regrets? You don't regret not doing something.
GIRL: No. Before I developed the tumor, I was always mad. I never seemed to be able to get anything done right. When I found out I was dying, it just didn't seem to make sense anymore. Why spend the rest of my life dwelling on stupid facts that don't mean anything. Sure there are things I wish I could have done differently, but oh well. I am me today because of what I have done. I like who I am. So why regret what I have done to become who I am? Life without regrets.
INTERVIEWER: I don't know what to say. You're alive, you're happy.
GIRL: I'm living like I mean it. Even if I make a mistake, I don't apologize for it. I did it, so what. Get over it. I have a tumor, so what? I'm over it.
INTERVIEWER: I'm impressed, I really am.
GIRL: Thank... (Collapses)
INTERVIEWER: Are you okay?! Doctor!

The scene is a small dark room, in the basement of a hospital. The time is three thirty in the morning. The date is of no concern. The issue is sad, disturbing, yet so important. One person sits at the table, staring at the notepad on the table before him. He jots down one last note before exiting the room.

Today I learned something invaluable. I saw a girl die before me, yet she was still alive. It was a girl who knew she was dying and would probably not make it to the end of the interview. Yet she didn't seem concerned. She taught me that everyone dies, but not everyone lives. She gave me no name, as it was not important. She was alive and that was all that mattered. She lived like she meant it. I will not forget how happy her face, sunken in and framed by greasy hair, seemed when her brain ceased to function. She lived without regret and like she meant it. She was one of the few people left in the world that is alive.