It felt like floating, that much I could register. Just floating in the middle of nowhere, in a sea of black. Neither hot or cold, neither deafening or silent. It was almost like the pins and needles feeling you got when you sat on your leg for too long, but without the pain.
Floating nowhere and everywhere. It was as peaceful as it was unnerving. Alarms were going off in the distance, so many alarms but it was so easy to float in the black, so easy to drown out the sounds of the alarms.
At some point, I was able to conjure up a vague concern about writing. When was the last time I wrote something?
Before I could even think further, the tides of black pulled me back under, soothing my mind and my worries under the gentle lapping of blackness.
The gentle lapping of black soothed me, almost like a lullaby with the soft ebb and flow that washed away any thought. A soft ebb and flow that kept me floating in the soft, numbing darkness.
I never wanted it to go away. I only wanted to drift under the soft lullaby, under the soft sea of black.
Nothing more, nothing less.
.
.
.
When had the grey turned black?
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Her Worlds
FanfictionShe was haunted by the insatiable need to create. It was a feeling that haunted her, loomed over her every hour of every day. And she was sick of it. But she couldn't ignore the itching feeling, the restlessness, the anxiety she got when she ignore...
