Words of nothing.  Words of something.  She would write until her fingers bled.  Just out.  All of it had to get out. 

What needed to be articulated?  Where to begin?  At the beginning of this darkness…   

She’d never been the type to ponder and harp on how life would end up without him.  She had always felt that he’d be with her. 

But when he snapped, it stopped.  The world around her changed.  It was like a band that had been stretched and stretched until it could no longer hold.  And just like that, it was over.   

At first, she didn’t feel it.  There was no pain.  No joy.  It was just…nothing.   

Everyone told her to move on.  Told her what they thought she wanted to hear.  Told her to just feel it.   

She had to keep away.  The world, They, wanted her to do it this way or that.  They would be shut out.  They didn’t know how or when to grieve like she could.   

Then she felt it.  It started as a mere tingle and then began to sting.  At first, just the tips of her toes and then, slowly, up through her entire body.  She began to quake.  What was this she wondered.  Could it be him? 

No.  This wasn’t him.  This was…feeling.  This was somethingness.  The more she felt it, the longer it held power over her.   

This power began to feed her.  It had become a roar constantly in the background.  A roar that lulled her to sleep each night like a dark lullaby.    

The longer she felt the roar, the more she fed off it.  The more she needed it.  Slowly, it took his place.  This was the understanding she was seeking. 

This roar felt her and understood her.  Needed her too.   Needed her unlike anyone or thing had ever needed her.  The roar would speak to her in her dreams.  It was a stranger to many but a friend to her.  

She began to love the roar.  No longer was this constant roar intangible.  This roar had become her reason for living.  It filtered her perception.  Made the world dim.   Dark.  Made the world easier to maneuver.   

No longer did she have to fear the darkness that filled her soul.  The roar numbed her so she could begin again.  Begin a life that embraced the darkness and filtered out the sunlight and flowers and joy.   

A life that felt the sun.  That let the sun burn her flesh so her appearance reflected her soul.  Burned.  Tender.  Charred.  The roar held her.  Never got angry at her.  Never tested her.  It was just there.  A constant.   

This would be her new life.  Her soul would no longer cry out for someone to understand.  Her heart would never burn and ache with loneliness again.   

This roar would sustain her.