Dilution in the Moonlight

All life had ceased to exist. Isn't that what darkness meant? Or was that only inside her head? She had been alone in the dark so often now that everything was jumbled. Once, she had read somewhere that people tended to avoid the dark of night. (Normal people), she thought, discluding herself. (I love nighttime. The shimmery feeling of the moonlight dancing around my shoulders, and even better, the empty pain of a new moon. Does that make me a masochist? The pain makes me happy because it makes me real.) Her thoughts became diluted with too much emotion, and the words floated away to reside inside someone else's head. To waken the fire in them as it had in her.1

Nothing was as easy as the books said it would be. Just keeping her head above water was getting harder and harder. Soon, she would be sinking. And as each word left her mind, left her mouth and her hands forever, she would only be able to watch them, bubbling to the surface. There would be no way to escape the oblivion that waited below, where no words were needed.