My Light Gone Out.

I stood silent in the thundering quiet. My mind was racing at thousands of miles a minute, through deserts and mountains,  names and faces, colors and shapes, sounds and feelings. I had longed to be alone for the past few hours and now that I was here I regretted ever wishing such a fate upon myself. I stared at the reflection in the mirror with empty eyes, not thinking of her but of the night she had just lived.
I was three seperate people. One wise and honest and fair, one foolish and angry and carnal, and one who was so passive and frightened that would fall to either one side or the other. The latter was me and I was her, the same anxious individual who stood by till the last ever beckoning moment when she would give in to one of the louder two. So many booming accusations, facts and evidences were spread out for me to see, affecting what I was to think about myself and this particular moment. My perspectives would switch back and forth and around as the fighting ensued in my head, but never did I decide.
I only grew more angry, more frustrated, more anxious but slowly even that faded.
Apathy overtook me. I ripped myself from the fight, gripping the bathroom counter, shoulders shaking, once again staring at the mirror. It was as if the camera angle switched entirely to a downward angle that showed the back of my head and the face in the mirror... The reflection I saw was not me but an entirely different person. One whom I did not know but yet I knew was only me. The yellow light cast down on her skin and made her face look washed out and blotchy. Her eyes were tired and red, her mouth twitched in an awful grimace. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy after-math and her shoulders shivered from being exposed to the dry air. The camera switched back into her eyes, my own two eyes and I took a step back, unpinned my hair and brushed through it slowly with my fingers to see if the sight I beheld would improve. It did not. I turned slightly to my right and flicked off the light, never taking my eyes off the mirror. In the dark I felt better. I felt hidden.
I pushed myself up against the wall and slid down to the floor. My body felt hot and edgy, it kept telling me to relax and find somewhere to rest but I refused to leave my safe haven. I told myself to shut up, stop moving, stop breathing, stop thinking. I was nothing of importance then, I was merely a girl on the bathroom floor.
Time didn't matter to me. It only became confusing and unbearable. Hours reeled by and it only felt like a few minutes, minutes ticked by and they seemed like hours, hours feel like days. I found myself at the saddest point I ever had been. Not so much sad as numb. I did not care about anything, nothing would soothe the buzzing in my head, the emptiness in my chest, nor the overwhelming exhaustion of my body. I felt nothing. I was nothing but matter taking up space in the universe.
My mind slowed to a crawl, it blanked and there was nothing but the stillness of night creeping up inside my ears, my mouth, my nose, my eyes, suffocating me. It took hold of my toes and entwined itself up my legs, it locked onto my arms, my chest, my neck and held me in place. For the first time, I realized. I was dead.
Not physically, that would have been pleasure. I had suffered the worse kind of death there is. The death of the inside. The death of my spirit.
I did not cry. I did not ache for forgiveness or a second chance, I did not feel guilt. I was numb from the inside out. Everything had been tossed out the window and I was a hopeless case of pure emptiness.
However, In this cold place of mine I found my hope. If I had realized that I was dead and that I did not want to be, was that not hope? Was that not my chance? Somewhere in the deepest, dustiest, hardest place to find in my heart, there had to be a light... Or was I just wishing?