[no amount of longing]

[past became a dream, and the future a fantasy. There was nothing left: no feeling, no sound, no movement. Balance, yes, but the balance was nil.

Nothing made sense. And nothing mattered.

It was about dealing—about moving through each day like there was some kind of direction, as if  there were purpose. But there was none, nothing. Everything stopped in a few months' time. Everything ended: the plank, the proverbial cliff, the rope. That was the moment the escape hatch opened for good, and the kind, well-meaning humans were jettisoned into the void.

Until then? The motions had to be gone through, the dramas played out as if they mattered. When all that mattered was what had been lost long ago—that which no amount of longing could bring back]