What Was It To Her

“I can’t fit in, anywhere!” she screamed at the wall in her room, her face flushed, nausea rising from the inbred self-pity. She looked down at her phone, “No one?” she murmured as a few solitary tears began to rise up, bubbling up from deep inside her. “Nothing! Ever!” she screamed as she grabbed a corner of the day-ticked, empty, calendar and tore it away from the wall, falling. She stood and looked at the bed, “No one even knows who I am!” her voice breaking into a sobbing plea, crying, in thought of hopelessness. “Wonderful, another thing to disappear,” her eyes welling, blurring her vision as she looked for shoes, any pair of shoes in the room. She felt her feet were on the wood floor, the only thing she felt, “Why, why? Why?!” her sobbing, her pleas, as if upon death ears only for her to hear. Nothing she could say explained how she felt, her bare feet slapping against the pavement with every waywardly sprinted step she took, each a numbed shock. She couldn’t see the woods grow about her, her eyes wouldn’t let her, why would they, her heart was ashen, her eyes, the black and blue hazing in the dark. The ground was cold, damp, or was it the blood from falling oblivious and being hated by even the ground, or was it her tears that had blanketed the ground. She looked to rise, her vision hazing with every breath, “why?” her question, unanswered.