For the second time in the last few weeks, I woke up, dazed and confused, in a hospital room.
But this time I was on suicide watch.
There was a new emptiness that filled me, it wasn’t like before… when I’d first learned of her… her… death. It was new: I’d cried myself away at the creek bed… washing my tears and blood into the stream… washing away the pain in some insane attempt to make it better.
It didn’t.
It just made me numb.
Numb to the world.
It hurt to think, so I didn’t think. It hurt to feel, so I stopped feeling.
I stopped everything.
And everything stopped for me.
Because none of it mattered anymore.
Because nothing could possibly matter anymore.

The Extremely Depressing End

(Ahem, read the sequel please)