The Day the World Went Away

Something was missing.

There had been no great shock in her life, no unforeseen death of a loved one. Something was just simply gone. That spark of life that kept a person going, that little bit of ambition, had vanished. She’d noticed as soon as she woke up that morning. It was how she wanted nothing more than to break down and cry, how the tears tightened her throat and pricked at the corners of her eyes. There was no real reason for it; the only answer she could come up with was oh god, another day. Why did it feel like there was nothing to look forward to anymore?

Of course, this hadn’t been the first time this happened. Everyone had bad days. She was no exception, and every time, it felt like there was no end. The absence seemed like it would never be filled again. Logic was there to tell her otherwise, but logic was hard to believe.

She stayed up all night, so she wouldn’t have to wake up the next morning. If she had thought about it, she would have supposed it made no sense. Was today any better, or worse? She was trapped between the blurry sea of exhaustion, and the sharp blade of caffeine; she couldn’t tell.

She fell asleep, and cried about it when the alarm clock screamed in her ear, the bedroom stifled in the grey of early morning. She skipped the shower and breakfast to sit in silence. She couldn’t eat anyway. Panic built as she watched minutes flicker by, and it made everything go down like cotton. She dreaded every moment she couldn’t spend becoming nothing. Today felt like it might be the worst, but there were no grey areas.

Logic was most definitely a liar. There was no end, no redemption. There were moments. Someone would tell a joke to have her crack a brief, weary smile, but the descent always came mere seconds after. It just wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t sure anything was.

She was surrounded by friends, but she was alone. She couldn’t even decide if that’s what she wanted. It would sting when others were oblivious to it all, but she couldn’t bear it when a concerned face would approach, a hand on her shoulder or arm, asking “are you okay?” No. She would smile, perhaps throw in a tiny laugh, and answer “yes”, because there was no cause for how she felt. It was stupid. Other people have been through much worse. Other people have a reason to constantly have the urge to cry. Besides, Papa always told her to find something to be thankful for.

There was nothing. She had food and clothing, and a place to live, but what purpose did anything truly serve? Dreams were unattainable. She would never do anything important. She was striving for the impossible, and it wasn’t worth it. Little bouts of happiness weren’t worth the constant stress and pain. She was trapped in this loop, and it would never stop. Nothing was worth it. She would never rise above this.

Life had disappeared. Purpose left, and she decided to follow after it. Maybe there was a niggling thought back to her family, but she swallowed it down past her racing pulse. It was okay; she wasn’t really significant. There were other things, other people. She tried to sigh, and her shaking hands set to work. Should she have been crying? It was the first time in a long time that she didn’t feel like it.

She wouldn’t be missed forever.