No Punctuation.

She’d seen what it was like to have one’s heart broken. Now, it was her turn to experience it. The fear, the loneliness, it was all so overwhelming. The pain engulfed her. It was like drowning, having no air reach her lungs. But this, this was much worse. She couldn’t form any coherent thought, let alone a sensible sentence. And then she remembered him. His eyes. His smile. Everything. He was the lone ray of sunshine in her life. And now, he was gone, leaving her life pitch black. She tried clutching onto the good memories, but they were fast leaving her, making her feel cold and sick, like one would feel on a storm-tossed night. She tried to numb herself to the pain, tried to forget all thoughts, good and bad, but she couldn’t. She rubbed and rubbed. Until all that remained was an eraser smear where once happiness had been. Anymore rubbing would leave a hole. A hole that couldn’t ever be repaired. The pages in her book of life were coming to an end. Much earlier than they should have. The chapters were getting shorter and sadder, until all that will remain, could remain,  will be a full stop. A punctuation mark to state the end of her pitiful life. She cringed when she looked into a mirror. How long ago was it, when she’d dance away all her worries in front of those very same mirrors? She’d placed them everywhere in hopes of casting away all her worries when she saw her graceful self in them. And cast away they did, only until now, when they’d started throwing her good-for-nothing state back at her. It was like losing a best friend. Only these were so many. They were once her dream come true and now, they’d become a nightmare. The worst kind. Everyday, she would lose some more of herself, withering away. Losing the grace, the passion, the glow, the happiness. The once shining eyes were now reduced to dull globs of brown and white. They’d braved the storms of life and now they looked empty and hollow, not unlike the way she felt. She’d lost all those curves that made all the girls green with envy and now all that was left was skin and bones. With one last long look in the mirror, she sat down to write on the last page that was left in the book, only to notice she’d ran out of ink. Out of hope. There would be no punctuation. No end. Just an empty page reminding people of what was once beautiful and that it could be reduced to nothingness. She didn’t get the punctuation she was hoping she would. If only the ink could last a little longer to leave a full stop, even if it’d be to an incomplete word. If only her hope could last a little longer to give her the ending she’d waited for. If only.