--So, this is what its like,

to hit rock bottom.

all around me is the echo of Eloisa:

these voluntary pains all multiplied.

And from me…repentance

but I cannot sigh.

I fear myself to make a sound

instead lie still and stare at sanitary walls

heart beating violence with adrenaline fury

blood turned to lead and infused with blameless guilt

(it’s not your fault) and yet it is:

in some ways I need to be.

Bracing myself,

wanting to accept my pain with open arms;

hold it close and nurture it

raise it carefully and watch it grow

all in bitter irony.

It’s the waiting I hate.

Hours melt to seconds and I have no time to think

instead I am

just waiting for-

for what I am not sure but already

I feel the strange sensation of…

nothing at all.

and here…

I wake…

and remember…

nothing at all.

Instead I am hollow

and so relieved.

(I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd)

italics from Alexander Pope's Eloisa to Abelard.