Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sana hadn’t truly slept for days. Maybe almost a week, or maybe longer. It was all blending together into a blurry image in her mind. It was like looking out the car window during a downpour—nothing was clear or defined. 

“Please try to sleep,” Jihyo said, emerging from the bathroom. 

Sana hated the worry in her eyes. 

“I’m fine, Jiji,” she said. “I’m not tired. In fact, I want to—“ 

Jihyo grabbed her by the arm before Sana could leave the room.

”You want to try to sleep,” Jihyo said firmly, and eyebrow quirked. “Because sleep is important.” 

“I don’t need to, though,” Sana said.

And it was true—Sana felt so alive. The world was bright, glowing. An energy she hadn’t felt for years was coursing through her veins. She was a bit annoyed that Jihyo was so worried. Couldn’t she just be happy for her?

“But you do, though,” Jihyo said with a sigh. “Cuddle with me?” 

That was something Sana couldn’t say no to—that she’d never want to say no to.

Jihyo wrapped herself around Sana, immediately taking to running her fingers through Sana’s hair. Part of Sana felt sad—Jihyo was trying so hard. Normally, this would make Sana sleep. But tonight, nothing would. 

“Are you sleepy?” From Jihyo’s voice, it was evident that she was. 

“Don’t worry,” Sana said.

”I wish you’d call the doctor,” Jihyo said, her voice fading even more. “This isn’t good, Sana.” 

Something about that made Sana mad—this was good. Realistically, she knew something was wrong. She knew this would probably end poorly. But right now, it was good. Didn’t she deserve something good?

When Jihyo’s breathing eventually evened out, Sana slipped out of bed. She switched out her slippers for her shoes and stepped outside. She wanted to go for a walk, but she knew she was already tempting fate by 1) leaving Jihyo’s side and 2) going outside. So she settled for sitting on the porch and taking out her phone.

Sana: are you awake?

Mina: I sure hope so, since it’s currently 1PM here
Mina: isn’t it one in the morning for you?!

Sana: :)
Sana: can I call or are you working? 

Mina: it’s the weekend Sana… are you okay?

Sana sighed. Maybe Mina was the wrong choice—she knew her too well.

Suddenly her phone lit up with picture of her and Mina hugging each other in front of Mina’s childhood home in Japan. 

“Hey,” Sana said. “I’m fine, Minari.” 

“Yeah right,” Mina said. “You thought I was asleep in the afternoon and you forgot it’s Saturday? You’re usually little miss perfect with remembering details like that.” 

“I… I feel too awake.” Her voice felt so loud in the quiet of the suburbs she now lived in with Jihyo. They were living the American dream—suburbia, just about an hour outside of New York City, two stable jobs, a house of their very own.

And suddenly Sana was so afraid of ruining it all.

”I’m so worried,” she admitted. “Everything is so good here, and I just… I can’t ruin this for us.” 

“You’re not going to ruin anything,” Mina said softly. “Jihyo loves you, Sana. She would want to know.” 

“I’m pretty certain she does,” Sana said with a small laugh. “She wants me to call the doctor.” 

“Are you going to listen to her?” 

Sana didn’t have to ask Mina if she agreed. She already knew. But what Mina and Jihyo didn’t understand was that this was the benefit—for just a little bit of time, Sana felt entirely alive. She felt unstoppable—like she could do anything. So why would she stop herself?

”It’s really not that bad,” Sana said.

”Sana…” Mina sighed. “Even if this isn’t bad, don’t you remember what comes after?”

The after felt so far away. It felt like it would never touch her again. She felt so high that it seemed impossible she’d ever feel so low.

”I just want to live,” Sana said. “Without making everyone worry, and just… I want to be happy.” 

“Is this happiness?” 

Sana bit her lip. Right then and there, yes. Sana was very happy.

”Right now it is,” she said. “Hey, tell me what you’re up to this weekend?” 

Mina laughed, and Sana knew she noticed her quite obviously trying to change the subject, but she also knew Mina would do exactly that if Sana wanted her to.

”Momo is in town,” Mina began. “Which, by the way, you should be too!” 

“I didn’t expect your trip to Japan to end with you living there!” Sana protested. 

“Just temporarily,” Mina said. “Just until my dad is fully healed from the surgery.”

But there was a truth there neither of them wanted to speak: Mina loved being back in Japan. For the first time since they were grade schoolers, they might be separated. 

But Sana would ignore that.

”Tell me all about it,” she said, a smile on her face. 

***

When Sana returned to bed, Jihyo was still asleep. She stared at Jihyo, who looked so unburdened by their daily lives as she slept. She wasn’t worrying about work or house repairs or if they should get a new car. She was simply existing, hopefully dreaming of something nice.

Sana laid down and closed her eyes, but sleep could barely find her. She woke up over and over again, but she wasn’t tired when morning broke and she actually had to be up, or more like when she could be up without Jihyo worrying that she’d gotten up too early.

She snuck out of the room and to the kitchen, where she began to make Jihyo breakfast. 

Eggs, toast, and coffee. This was Jihyo’s ideal Saturday morning breakfast, not to be confused with her Sunday morning one, which was a donut or cinnamon roll.

”They have different vibes,” Jihyo told Sana when Sana asked her favorite breakfast. “It really depends on the day of the week. Weekdays are oatmeal or a healthy cereal. If it’s a big day, maybe a bagel.”

”I had no idea it was this elaborate,” Sana said with a smile as she sipped her drink.

”It’s very elaborate,” Jihyo said seriously. 

I love you, Sana thought, even though she’d only been dating Jihyo for about two months at the time. She’d known earlier than that, even. She just loved Park Jihyo with all of her heart and soul. 

Now, Sana focused on completing Jihyo’s Saturday breakfast, adding orange juice to the mix. She brought it all in to Jihyo on a tray.

”Mmm, what time is it?” Jihyo asked from under the covers when Sana came into the room.

”Breakfast time,” Sana said, unable to keep the glee from her voice.

Jihyo’s head popped up and the softest smile broke out across her face as she looked from the breakfast tray to Sana. 

“For me?” 

“No, for my other girlfriend,” Sana said, rolling her eyes. She set the tray on the bed and kissed Jihyo’s forehead. “Of course for you,” she said softly. 

“Will you eat with me?” When Jihyo looked up at her with those puppy dog eyes, Sana couldn’t help but give in.

”Let me go grab it,” Sana said, kissing Jihyo one more time.

Sana grabbed her toast from the toaster oven and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Unlike Jihyo, she wasn’t a big breakfast person.

They ate together in a content silence for a while. After finishing most of her breakfast, Jihyo cleared her throat. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you did last night?” 

Sana froze mid-bite.

”Ah, so you did get up,” Jihyo said, watching her girlfriend’s expression.

”Wait, what?” Sana said, trying to act confused, batting her eyelashes as Jihyo. “Why ever would I get up?” 

Jihyo swatted her in the arm. “What did you do?”

”I just called Mina,” Sana said, setting down her toast. “I think she’s going to stay in Japan.” 

“It does seem that way,” Jihyo said. “But… did you sleep at all?” 

Sana could hear the unasked questions buried in that singular question. Did you sleep? Are you tired? Are you okay? 

“I’m fine, Jiji,” Sana said, reaching out to her girlfriend. 

Jihyo took Sana’s hand and squeezed it. 

“I had a dream,” Sana said. “So I must have slept.” 

Jihyo played with Sana’s fingers. 

“That’s not really enough,” she said softly. “I’m just worried.”

”Let me worry about it,” Sana said, leaning forward to kiss Jihyo. She kissed her softly, deepening it when Jihyo sighed into the kiss. 

Jihyo pulled away.

”Don’t distract me with your feminine wiles,” she whined. 

Sana giggled and tackled her to the bed.

”How about I distract you some more?” Sana waggled her eyebrows and Jihyo squealed as Sana pushed her down again, laughing all the way.

***

“Sana,” Jihyo said, fast walking to catch up to her. “What’s the hurry?” She grabbed Sana’s hand so she would be forced to go at her pace. 

“Sorry,” Sana said. She was distracted by her thoughts, and when she was distracted, she tended to walk faster, and faster, and faster. 

Jihyo tugged Sana’s hand, forcing her to stop. 

“What is going on?” She was slightly out of breath.

”Mina,” Sana finally said. “I can’t imagine her living on the other side of the world.”

Mina had called again and said her father was doing far better. And that she had a job prospect there.

”If I get it, I’m staying,” she’d told Sana, her voice shaky as she spoke. 

“What about your apartment here?” Sana knew it was a dumb question, but that place was so Mina. She’d moved in right after they graduated from college and now, five years later, hadn’t moved out. Not yet at least. 

“I really like it here,” Mina said. “But I’ll be back, you know? That spare bedroom in your house can be mine.” 

When Sana stayed silent, Mina sighed.

”This isn’t an easy choice,” she said. “I’m scared, Satang.” 

Sana felt tears welling up as Mina said her childhood nickname from the literal other side of the world. 

“I know,” Sana said. “You know in your heart, and you’re doing the right thing.” Sana sniffled. “The spare bedroom isn’t a spare bedroom—it’s your bedroom, silly.” 

Mina laughed, and Sana was glad to hear some happiness back in her voice. 

Jihyo pulled Sana into a hug.

”I’m sorry, Sana. I can’t imagine her being gone either, you know?” 

“I know,” Sana said, biting her lip to hold back tears. They were a close-knit group, after all. 

“She’ll be back, and we can visit too.” 

Sana nodded and pulled away from Jihyo. 

“I want to keep walking, but you go home, Jiji.” 

Jihyo was still for a moment before nodding, giving in to Sana. 

“Come home soon, okay?” 

“I will,” Sana said. 

Three hours, ten missed phone calls, and countless missed texts later, Sana stood at the overlook in the nearby park, looking down at the river, the boats, the houses. It was all so peaceful from above. 

But Sana felt anything but peaceful. She felt a storm of emotions brewing inside her that she didn’t know how to handle or contain. 

The next time her phone rang, she answered. 

“What the hell?” Jihyo said. “The only reason I haven’t sent out a search party is because I can see where you are on FindFriends. Come home or I’ll come get you.” 

“I can decide what to do,” Sana hissed into the phone. 

She could decide, yes, but she also felt like she was spiraling out of control.

”Yes, you can,” Jihyo said plainly. “But I’m not going to watch you wander around all night.” 

“It’s not even dark yet,” Sana said indignantly. 

“You have like two miles to walk home!” 

“And I can do that in twenty minutes! Stop worrying, Jihyo. I’m fine!” 

And then Sana did something she’d never done before: she hung up on her own girlfriend.

Of course, she thought of that the entire walk home. She envisioned all the different ways Jihyo might react. She thought of all the different ways she could say sorry. None of them seemed like enough.

What’s wrong with me?

She stood outside their door, shuffling back and forth on her feet. 

The door swung open and Jihyo stood there, staring at her, her eyes full of fury.

”Don’t you ever hang up on me again,” she said. “I didn’t deserve that.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Sana agreed. “I’m really sorry,” she said softly. “It wasn’t right.” 

Jihyo sighed. “Come in,” she said, taking Sana by the hand. She shut the door and turned to face Sana, her arms crossed. “Why did you hang up on me?” 

“I… I don’t know,” Sana said honestly. “I was just really mad and I took it out on you.” She looked down at her feet. “I don’t like it when you tell me what to do.” 

Jihyo nodded her head. 

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry too. I just…” She looked Sana over, as if she was deciding whether or not she could really say something. “I know you’re not okay even if you think you are. I was just frustrated.” 

“I don’t want you to worry when you don’t have to.” Sana moved further into the house, sitting down on the couch. “Worry only if something bad happens.” 

Jihyo followed her, hugging a pillow to her chest as she sat down. 

“I feel like I’m watching as something bad does happen,” she said. “It’s like I’m watching a car crash in slow motion.” 

Sana furrowed her brow. “That’s… I need to go.” Sana stood, rushing toward their bedroom.

“Sana, wait!” Jihyo was right on her heels. “I’m sorry!” 

“My life isn’t a car crash in slow motion!” Sana spun around to face Jihyo. “You don’t get it, and I never expected you to, but god, Jihyo, stop acting like you know something I don’t. Have you ever considered why I don’t call the doctor? Have you ever, just once, thought about how all of this feels for me?”

”That’s not fair, Sana,” Jihyo said. “Of course I do. I’m always trying to understand how it feels for you.” 

“Then think of what it must be like to feel good after always feeling like shit!” Sana hated the tears welling up in her eyes. “Think about how it feels to love life after spending every waking moment imagining different ways you could die!” Sana took a deep breath. “So that is why I haven’t called the doctor. I know how this ends, Jihyo. And I know I’m not in danger. I know, all right? I’m not—“ Crazy. 

“No, you aren’t.” Jihyo read her mind. “I respect your decision. I… I never thought of all of that.” Jihyo looked like Sana had just put her through all nine circles of hell at once. “And I want to talk about it more, but…” 

“I don’t,” Sana said. “Please just give me some time.” She turned and went to the armchair in their room, while Jihyo stood in the doorway. After a few seconds, she left. 

Sana stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered when she started to look so pale and pasty. She looked so opposite of how she felt and it was, frankly, startling. 

She buried her face in her knees and let herself cry, let herself feel. And after she cried, exhaustion wrapped its fingers around her, dragging her under. For once, she willingly let it. 

***

Sana woke up with a blanket over her shoulders, but the room empty. She groaned, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself, then padded out to the living room. Jihyo was on the couch, watching the news.

”I’m sorry,” Sana said. “I’m so sorry, Jihyo.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Jihyo moved over and patted the spot on the couch next to her. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sana said as she curled up next to Jihyo.

”Okay,” she said.

Sana could tell Jihyo was holding back, and she was grateful that she did. She knew she couldn’t escape talking about it forever, but she needed the respite for now.

”I’ll call the doctor,” Sana said even though she didn’t want to.

Jihyo’s hands stilled in Sana’s hair.

”It’s okay,” Jihyo said. “You don’t have to.” 

“They usually can’t do anything,” Sana said. “It’s not bad enough for that, you know?” 

“It’s just best if they know,” Jihyo said. “Even if you don’t do anything.”

So Monday morning, Sana called. Monday afternoon, she was in her psychiatrist's office. Monday evening, she was holding a pill, staring down at it.

”We should try to break it,” her doctor had explained. “It might work, it might not. I think it’s worth a try, though.” 

She took it, and she felt like she was swallowing her doom.

***

Sana was tired. She was so tired that it felt like something was pinning her down to the bed. Her entire body felt heavy, like her limbs were waterlogged. 

“Close your eyes,” Jihyo said softly. She was holding Sana’s hand, rubbing the back of her thumb. “I’m right here.” 

The crash was here, and it was sending Sana spiraling down.

She let her eyes drift shut, focusing solely on the warmth of Jihyo’s hand. 

I need to feel that high again. I need to feel alive again.

It was the pill—the medication Jihyo and the doctor had insisted she take. Sana just wouldn’t take it the next day, and then she’d be happy again.

When she woke up, Jihyo was still there. It looked like she’d been crying.

”Hey,” she said softly when she realized Sana was awake. “How do you feel?” 

Everything hurt—her body, her mind, her soul. There was a dull ache that spread throughout her very existenece. It felt all-consuming.

Like I want to die.

”I feel good,” Sana said, her voice cracking. 

“You are a horrible liar,” Jihyo said with a sad smile. She squeezed Sana’s hand. 

Sana squeezed her hand back. 

She knew this wasn’t easy for Jihyo. She’d tried many times to imagine it from Jihyo’s perspective. She tried to imagine watching the person she loved more than anyone else getting hurt over and over again without her being able to do a single thing to stop it. And that right there hurt Sana so much. 

She hated that Jihyo had been crying, and she hated that she hid it from her.

Sana was silent because she didn’t know what to say. Her mind felt foggy. She just wanted to sleep.

Jihyo seemed to know that, because she settled for just being there and not protesting when Sana drifted off again.

***

Sana didn’t take the pill. She threw out the bottle, bringing it to the trash can outside so Jihyo wouldn’t see.

***

“Sana?” Mina said when she answered the phone. 

“Hey, Minari,” Sana said as she walked through the neighborhood.

”It’s 2 AM?” Mina sounded apprehensive. “I thought…” 

“Don’t tell Jihyo,” Sana said. “She worries too much.” 

Mina sighed. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m great,” Sana said as she walked through their neighborhood. She loved living in a place that was actually safe—or as safe as possible—for her to walk alone at night. 

“I know it’s hard,” Mina said. “It’s hard for me too. I was talking to Momo today and asking her if I was making the right decision.” 

“She said yes?” Sana knew them both well enough to know the answer, but she still phrased it like a question. 

“Yeah,” Mina said. “Sana… Please don’t hate me, but I’m worried too. About you.” 

“Mina, please—“

”No, listen to me first, okay? Because I’ve been there with you through it, and it’s kind of killing me that I can’t see you right now. I don’t actually know if you’re fine and I just have to believe you’re not lying to me.”

Sana took a deep breath.

”Then I’m not fine,” she said. “I am, but I’m also not.” 

A beat of silence. 

“I’m glad you told me the truth.” Mina’s voice was gentle. “I think you need to tell Jihyo that too.” 

“I threw out the pills,” Sana said. Now that she’d told one truth, she couldn’t stop herself. “I won’t take them again.” 

“Okay.” Mina kept her voice neutral. 

“Nothing will actually cure it anyway.” 

Sana had spent many nights crying over that fact. Now she accepted it as much as she really could. 

“But it can help, you know?” 

“It felt horrible,” Sana said. “I felt like I was dying. I can’t do it, Mina. I really can’t. I’ll live with the consequences instead.” 

“Just tell Jihyo this too,” Mina said. “And Sana? I love you.” 

Sana smiled, looking up at the sliver of moon peeking through the clouds. 

“I love you too.”

***

Sana told Jihyo, and Jihyo accepted it, at least outwardly. Sana wondered what she felt on the inside. Was she upset with Sana, but not telling her? Was she disappointed in her? Was she sad?

But Sana was happy. Or she felt like she was happy. 

She ignored the undercurrent of sadness lapping at her feet.

***

This was how the fall began: the energy of the high tinged with the sadness of the low. She felt like she needed to crawl out of her own skin. She felt like her brain was on fire. 

She wanted to tell Jihyo, but she couldn’t bear to ask her to go through this pain with her. It was already hard enough alone. She couldn’t watch it hurt Jihyo, too.

So she cried in the shower and she screamed into her pillow when Jihyo was preparing dinner. She took deep breaths between meetings at work and she went on runs instead of walks. She needed to feel the impact of her feet pounding the pavement; she needed it to reverberate through her body. 

She handled it as healthily as she could, and she was proud of herself for that. 

But she still couldn’t sleep. The last time she’d truly slept had been when she took that pill, and that was two weeks ago. She wondered how long her body could go on like this for.

Her mind was bright, but her mood was dark. Her body was energetic, but her emotions were like slush sloshing about inside her chest. She was so high and so low that it equaled out into feeling like she was being torn apart from the inside out.

But she kept walking through the world with a smile. 

***

When the floor fell out from under her, Sana felt like a zombie. She was exhausted, and she could finally sleep, but no sleep felt like enough. She felt like she could barely stand, barely get through the day at work. Words were jumbled up somewhere between her mind and mouth whenever she spoke. Her limbs were heavy, and her heart was empty. 

“What’s wrong?” Jihyo asked with a frown as Sana did the dishes. 

“Just a long day at work.” That wasn’t a lie—her meetings had been draining. 

“It feels deeper than that.” Jihyo wrapped her arms around Sana’s waist from behind. “Talk to me, Sana.” She buried her face in Sana’s shoulder, and Sana couldn’t help but melt a bit under her touch. 

She wanted so badly to give in and tell Jihyo everything. But the guilt was eating her alive. Jihyo had enough going on in her life, after all. 

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Jihyo said. “So you might as well just tell me.” 

“I can’t,” Sana said, her voice cracking. “It’s too hard.” 

“Too hard to talk about?” Jihyo tensed a bit, and Sana immediately felt guilty.

”Yes,” she said. 

“Are you depressed?” 

Sana was silent.

”It’s okay,” Jihyo said. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Sana didn’t know how to tell her that it felt like the world was ending. Like maybe she wanted it to end rather than live through this again.

”Yeah,” she said instead. “It’ll be okay.” 

***

Sana wondered how long she could go on for when her mind kept telling her to stop. She wondered how no one saw how much she was hurting, and she was a bit impressed with her own ability to wear such a good mask. Maybe she should have been an actress after all. 

Every morning felt like the morning she couldn’t do it—couldn’t get out of bed. And yet she continued to. Over and over and over. Autopilot was both a wonderful and horrible thing.

***

The doorbell rang, waking Sana from her nap. Jihyo was out, and Sana figured she’d forgotten her keys. As she blearily opened the door, she could barely register the arms wrapping around her were not Jihyo’s, but instead Mina’s. 

“Satang,” Mina said into her shoulder. “I missed you so much.” 

Sana couldn’t stop the tears. And for once, she didn’t want to. 

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” Sana said as she cried into Mina’s coat. 

“I wanted to surprise you and Jihyo,” she said. “Is that bedroom still available?”

”For you, always.” Sana tightened her grip on Mina, and Mina did the same. 

Part of her felt healed. Part of her felt more empty. 

“Let’s get you settled in.” She led Mina into the house, fussing over her just like she used to. Something about that felt so good.

***

”Do you want to go for a walk?” Mina found Sana sitting up in the living room after Jihyo had gone to bed. 

“It’s cold,” Sana said. In reality, she felt too weighted down to even think of moving. 

“Sana, I say this with so much love, but you look like you’re two seconds away from falling apart.” She sat down next to her friend. “Jihyo is so worried too.” 

“She called you, didn’t she?” 

“Yeah,” Mina admitted after a moment. “I was already planning a trip here to surprise you, but I moved it up.” She sighed, looking at her best friend. “You need to talk to her. She worries either way.” 

“I love her so much.” Sana’s voice trembled as she spoke. 

“You can’t protect her,” Mina said softly. “She doesn’t want you to protect her, either.” 

Sana nodded. It felt safer to keep it to herself. But she was tired. She was lonely. She felt like she could barely go on.

”Thank you for coming,” Sana said, overwhelmed that Mina had gotten on a plane home just to see her. She dropped her head into her hands and started to cry. “You really, really didn’t have to,” she hiccuped. 

“I wanted to,” Mina said, running her hand up and down Sana’s back. “I needed to check up on my American accommodations anyway,” she said.

Sana laughed. “Please give us a five star rating when you check out.” 

Mina hugged her. “I’ll think about it,” she said with a giggle. 

***

Sana talked to Jihyo. 

***

Sana heard Jihyo crying alone in the bathroom at night. 

***

Sana wished she still had the pills. 

***

“Do you mind if we order in?” Jihyo asked Sana over the phone. She was on her way home from work, over two hours late. And now she was stuck in traffic. 

“I’ll do it,” Sana said, already opening up UberEats. “How about the Mexican place?”

”Yes please,” Jihyo said. “My usual?”

”You didn’t even have to ask,” Sana said with a smile. “Be safe, please.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Sana hung up and finished the order, sprawling out on the couch afterward. She was watching the news—she couldn’t seem to look away, lately, and neither could Jihyo. MSNBC was their background track these days. It helped distract Sana from her thoughts. 

Her thoughts were dark and scary, but she continued to wade through them. The light was starting to poke through, and she figured she owed it to herself to swim toward it. 

Jihyo was gentler with her than usual. Never in a condescending way, but rather in a way that showed she was aware of what Sana was going through. She had been even more attentive since Sana had talked to her, and since Mina had left a few weeks ago. 

Sana felt undeserving, but she allowed Jihyo in regardless. 

That night, after some delicious Mexican food and the silly reality show they were slowly making their way through, Sana was cuddled up next to Jihyo.

Jihyo was tired—Sana knew that without a doubt. She’d barely seemed able to stand as she got ready for bed.

”Can you sleep?” 

Sana heard the unspoken questions within that question: are you okay? How sad are you? Will you get up when I fall asleep? 

“Yeah,” Sana said. Because she was pretty sure she could. She was exhausted too.

”Okay,” Jihyo said, already drifting off. “I love you.” 

Sana pressed a kiss to Jihyo’s hand she was holding, then tucked it under her chin. “I love you, too.” 

As she tried to sleep, Sana remembered months ago when she was awake with mere hours of sleep in her for days on end. It felt like a lifetime ago. Frankly, it felt like that had happened to a different person.

Now she was starting to feel the balance again. It was horrible, how she would go so high and so low, only to slowly crawl to the middle everyone else lived in. 

But she could feel the sun coming out in the night of her mind. And, for now, that was enough.