When you fight so long to see light that you end up with nothing left than to stare blankly at the ceiling with all of the thoughts that have been tormenting you ceasing and compacting to one word, created out of over-analysis caused exhaustion; "numb". And let the beginning of the tears you thought you had none left of because you have been fighting so hard you haven't cried since last summer, fall as your eyes cross. And then vomit your head into the pillows on your bed and moan "everything is ashes" like a mantra through ignored phone calls and slight worry and a blood nose but none of it really matters because it's all ash confetti and it's all in pieces and besides the turmoil and sadness, you're still numb and nothing but wallowing in sorrow matters.
And then right before you pass out from being devoid of all emotion and slight release, there is only one direction left. And some light filters in. And you smirk a little at the comical way you must've looked and the cliched parallel of your mind's chosen words to Melancholia's most noted line and for one moment you romanticize yourself as perhaps looking like Kirsten Dunst in that moment of eternal sadness but you didn't, you looked like a tear stained crack addict.
And there are still no answers but the need for them has gone because a helpful part of the numbness remains and filters anything that might cause further exhaustion because fighting takes more energy than not caring. And you are free again.
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