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By all accounts, she was probably supposed to be impressed.
She was probably supposed to make some quip about “perseverance” or something, laugh it off, then forget about it and go about her day like normal. She always had this impressive ability to act like nothing ever bothered her.
And she had just lost it.
Lightbulb groaned as she flopped over in her bed, draped in an almost-suffocating amount of blankets, snuggling up to her tear-stained pillow. She had been laying there for what felt like an eternity by now. Her voice felt hoarse. Her head hurt. Her eyes hurt. Her heart hurt.
She didn’t want to look at the aquarium tank sitting on her dresser. There was definitely no point in having it now, anyways. It was so fresh in her mind, too. No matter how hard she tried, she could still recall exactly how she felt when she discovered him.
And to think she was supposed to be the one lighting up the room.
She didn’t want to face the world today. There would be a challenge today, of course, but it would be too much work to get up. She was tired. For now, she figured she would just be fine laying here with her thoughts. Granted, this was still probably just as awful, but at least she didn’t need to put on a mask right now.
They would come looking for her, no doubt. She didn’t want them to. She didn’t want them to see her like this. She had a reputation to uphold, and this was arguably the furthest she could’ve possibly gotten from it.
She would come for them.
The world already knew good old “wacky” Lightbulb, and as far as she was concerned, that was all it should see of her.
She wanted to bounce back from this.
She wanted to so bad.
She just needed to get up.
Get up.
Get up.
GET UP.
GET UP!
But she couldn’t.