She

Nothing mattered to her anymore.
The little things that still did, she wished that they would stop mattering too. Before even that is ripped away from her.
'The emptiness is killing me' she used to laugh at clichéd over exaggerated sentences like that. Not anymore. Not when she was this close, this close to ideating suicide. She thought that was most cowardliest thing people could do. How could they just give up on themselves and everything around them? Now, she felt like she understood. It wasn't giving up. It was instead a desperate need to feel something, anything... other than the hollow emptiness inside. The need to feel fear, or to find something that mattered, hoping to be driven to stare at it right in the face: a purpose.
She'd been looking for that a long time. She knew. Since April 12, 2007 to be exact.
The only hope she was clinging on to, the what seemed sometimes as the only source of anything worth living for, stared at her in the face and said that she was smothering her. That she wanted to hate everything that was recommended to her by her. She could have just driven a knife right through her gut, and it wouldn't have hurt so much.
She thought it was over. Over when it started. Brief. She thought, hoped with everything that it was just because of that one episode with him. And she believed it was. Now, with that cleared, she wasn't sure anymore.
The whole world... so many people and she can't think of one person she could cry to. Not one.
Yet ...
Yet the tears won't stop flowing sometimes. She finds herself shedding tears, and have the tee shirt drenched before she even notices that she's crying. Left alone to herself, now more than ever, music blares and she cries, and screams with towels stuffed in her mouth. With no exact reason she can explain it with.
Curled up on the bed, an urge so strong to find a corner on the floor... and staring at the blank floor, willing it to open up and consume her. Press her sides, so she knows its not just complete dark emptiness within.
Her head feels heavy... and she tries to ensure that that the sitcoms don't stop, cause if they do, her brain will have nothing else to think of, focus on, other than the nothingness.
She doesnt cry for her mother when she cries anymore. Doesn't understand why.
Impulse buys, cruising through what seemed like an endless number of shops, junk food, chocolate, nothing seems to take the pain away. Initially, things like that would keep her going for a month at least. If she focused just on them, hard enough. Now, it doesn't help more than a day. And she's run out of options.
She found herself sitting and considering how it would feel to run a blade through her hand ...just on the surface. Last time I checked, she ran a mile looking at a needle.
Dunno which side of her family it came from, but the acting genes are somethings she's ever so grateful about.
Cry for an hour, get up, wash your face, wipe it dry, and open the door to what was her only hope. No one notices anything was ever amiss. There won't be any sort of smothering anymore.
Vampire diaries... Grey's anatomy... whatever, just keep it bloody.
Hoping to fade away.
Noticing bizarre comedy: Life right now feels like I just got waxed a while ago, initially it's completely numb. Then there is oversensitivity, your jumpy at the slightest touch- of anything. Because there's nothing left. Then you just go back to acting like how it was when you were numb.

And she thought she'll pull it all together before she turned 23- now that is good comedy.