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Yet the end was still elusive. It was still out of reach.
Nothingmade sense.
Like hitting a hard, concrete wall, she couldn't find a way out of the dead-end she'd locked herself in.
What started as mild trepidation quickly developed into a full blown panic attack as the walls of the room started closing in on her. Her breathing grew increasingly labored until she felt she was suffocating, and no amount of fresh air from the wide open windows was going to help her.
As she gasped for air, she realized she couldn't sit still anymore.
Dashing to the door, she unlocked it as she ran down the hallway. She ran and ran until she made it outside, the sunlight bathing her in warmth.
Placing a hand over her eyes, she oriented herself to the sky, asking the universe for an answer she knew she would never get.
Dropping to the ground, she felt tears accumulate at the corners of her eyes, before slowly slipping down her cheeks.
Why?
Why was she crying? She wasn't sad. She wasn't hurt. She was just confused, and lost and…
She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes until they were red and itchy, yet the tears still wouldn't stop.
"Why?" she whispered in a small, desolate voice.
She did not feel pain. But she did feel something. A void inside her chest. A hole that seemed to grow with each passing moment, with each lonely tear.
"Why?" she repeated again, staring at the sun and at the wide open sky.
Noelle didn't know what she was asking. She had no clue what was happening to her and why she'd had such a breakdown—why she'd been so shaken when she usually thought herself unbothered.
She tried to rationalize it as a perfectionist's reaction in the face of failure. But deep down she knew it was more than that.
It had to do with her—with what she lacked but pretended she did not. It had to do with all those dreams she held so tightly to herself she'd never dared tell a soul about them.
It wasn't failure, for to fail you had to try first.
No, for Noelle it was terror. A deeply ingrained fear that she would never be enough. That she'd forever be locked in place, unable to ever hope for more—strive for more.
She was afraid that this would be her life. Herentirelife.
Suddenly, music wasn't enough anymore.
Noelle didn't know how she got her bearings together enough to return to the piano room. Her heart was in her throat, her soul so exhausted she felt like a million years old. Yet the one constant was that feeling of loss—that void that was now transferring to her music.
She supposed it was only fair since that was the source of her talent—the well of her inspiration. And no matter how much she'd tried to fill it up with empty words and the perception of fullness, the truth always prevailed.
She was hollow.
As she closed the door behind her, she slumped on a chair.
Begrudgingly, she had to admit that it was becoming harder and harder to keep going, the emptiness inside of her growing with each day. And she recognized it exactly for what it was.
Loneliness.
Bone-reaching, Soul-searing loneliness.
Although her relationship with Cisco and his wife had improved considerably over the years, he was often too busy to entertain her, especially since the birth of his son. On the other hand, her relationship with her mother had deteriorated further.
It had been worse after her father had died, since her mother had closed herself in, her criticism becoming harsher and more acerbic, her volatility even greater than before.
