Sitting in the corner of her room, rocking herself to a state somewhere between sleep and awake, dead and alive, she's almost there;
the thoughts don't make any sense;
the breathing has calmed down;
the eyes have been fixated on her knees for so long she doesn't even know what she's looking at anymore;
the feeling still remains.
The feeling of wow-i-remember-what-it-used-to-be-like-looking-at-all-of-them-wondering-howcouldthey-howcouldthey-howcouldthey mixed with the feeling of now-she-is-looking-at-all-that-is-left-of-me-wondering-howcanshe-howcanshe-howcanshe;
the mixed up feeling once again getting mixed up with another feeling;
She tries to zone out the feelings, thinking that rocking will help;
looking at her knees will help;
thinking of nothing except babbles will help;
they must help;
they will help;
she needs to try harder.
it all becomes blurry;