The Beginning of Life as We Know It

Unmentionable

It wasn't the going that hurt her, it was everything that wasn't gone.

It was the memories of spontaneous ice cream dates, of laughs and kisses and kissing harder. It was the emptiness she felt when she re-read old love notes, tears shed at two am over unexpected lasts, unmentionable to those except herself.

She didn't suffer from some massive chasm in her heart; it was, in fact, a single heartstring that kept her perpetually drowning in her own tears, gasping for a deep breath of relief in a world without air. It was the hurt and shame etched like a scar on her voice that sent her spiraling downward - she missed the smell of sex on her sheets.

Desperate for control over at least something she dedicated herself to infinitely decreasing the space in the universe which she took up, determined to rid the world of as much of herself as possible. She didn't rely on needles to drift through death in an ignorant haze - she did it with a scale and a pair of worn-down running shoes.