There it is..at the end of the tunnel. A light. A light. She's reaching out and her hands are grasping the emptiness in front of her. She's not dead. She knows it. She's not alive either. She's not a ghost or some free spirit that religion is always mentioning. She's a random mass of atoms floating in the universe. Insignificant in light of the "big picture". She's crawling across the floor trying to find some sort of object that'll end her suffering. The carpet is burning her hands, and it's only then that she realizes that it's her fault for running her hand so quickly along the hallway floor. She sits on her knees. Possibly one of the most uncomfortable positions someone can be in. Present events prevent her nervous system from receiving the pain. Leaning her head as far back as she can, she breathes in, letting in as much oxygen as possible in to her system. A horrible grunt comes from somewhere not to far away. It sounds like a sufficated scream. Loud talking. What's that? She can't hear and ignores the conversation. She's good at that. blood is pumping through every single vein in her body. It tickles and she laughs. They look at her. She smiles. They turn away. Typical. They're used to ignoring her, just like she's used to ignoring conversation. Her lips are dry and she gets up to get a drink of water. Her legs collapse underneithe her body. Her feet are asleep and her brain is finally interpretting pain.