"There was a part of her that wanted to give it her all, and the other part of her understood that she had nothing to give. Emptiness. She was a glass vase without a flower. All she did was devour films, music, books, and cups of sweet coffee. She began to fill her mind with fiction. And soon then, she quietly detached herself from reality. Slowly but surely. It didn’t even hit her that she was living in her own world with no one in it but herself. But when the films ended, when the songs were finished, when the books were closed, and she rested her head on her pillow at night—only then was she reminded that she was ultimately living the same way that she was sleeping—alone."
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