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Author's Chapter Notes:
Don't own nothing involved but my words.

 

            There was the nothing, and that was nice.  A middle ground between black and white, a nice gray, perhaps, but pleasant in the emptiness of it all.  You’re there, but not really, because you’re nowhere.  Then you notice.  You notice that the gray isn’t really gray anymore, but more the color of capillaries, and suddenly the nothing is a tunnel, and at the end is a form that you can instantly tell, despite the unfocused eyes.  It’s her, and she’s looking down at you, and as you’re eyes become more and more focused, you can tell she’s been crying.  She whispers “Jim” and you’re out, actual sleep this time, but before you go, you think you should have gotten that DNR.

 

 

            “It’s only when you’ve lost everything, that you’re free to do anything.”  It all started with that quote.  Jim said it offhandedly to Pam one day, back before things changed.  She asked about it, and he told her where it came from, then he went on to explain how he thought it could be traced back to Jung’s writings on the symbols of Alchemy.  Nigredo, they called it, the point of maximum despair, how only on reaching that could you build yourself back up to your true self.

 

            Then, of course, things changed.  There was a schism between the two best friends, and you could hardly call them that any longer.  Both of them recalled the conversation often, as they each did with every conversation, looking for little moments that they should have done differently, the moment of their schism being on top of both their lists.

 

            When Jim came back, Pam thought this was it.  She’d reached the bottom, and could build herself up again with him acting as the cornerstone.  Then, of course, she met Karen, and figured she had a little further down to go.

 

            Jim thought he’d been the lowest he’d ever go in those months without her in his life.  He thought the bottom looked a hell of a lot like Stamford.  Then he met Karen, who of course plays a big role in this sad little tale, and thought she could be his cornerstone to rebuild upon.  See a pattern, here?

 

            When he came back, he thought it was over, the “it” being the single most defining relationship, at the same time the most satisfying and destructive friendship he’d ever had, but there she was, smiling electric and beautiful and instantly Jim knew he’d fucked up more than he could ever know.  He was pretty much at the bottom, he thought, when he explained he was sort of seeing someone.  He was reminded of that first lunch, when he found out she was engaged.  It was like looking into a mirror when he looked into those beautiful eyes and saw what could only be heartbreak.

 

            So, the schism got bigger and they both realized they had more to learn about hitting rock bottom.  Pam got a bit closer when she went back to Roy.  She was almost there when he trashed the bar.  She was so close when Roy tried to hurt Jim.  And then there was that glorious moment when she tried to apologize to Jim about the whole fucked situation, and he made that cruel comment, doing his best to protect his own heart while so utterly breaking hers.  There it was, finally, the bottom.  She could rebuild herself into the image of what she truly was meant to be, though she realized at that point, the desired cornerstone was still required.

 

            Jim, however, he had a ways more to go.  Miles and miles before he could sleep. 

           

 

           

Chapter End Notes:
Inspired by a poem I wrote some time back.  DNR means Do Not Resusitate.  Fight Club, probably Palahniuk's best book.  

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