And so she became silent. She had wanted the essence of all things, the melting of exoskeletons, of speech. Words were a distraction, a cheap rendition of reality. Everything she needed to say was said through her body, her face, her hands, and what couldn't be said through gestures and physical expression didn't need to be said at all. She shed herself of all these silly musings, of useless and ridiculous philosophical debate over definitions and axioms of socially constructed words which we could change at any time.

And so she was, mute and serious, caving in on herself from introspection like a supernova, her eyes gone black from going backwards. She disappeared into her hollow belly, trying to forget, until finally she was devoid of inner monologue.

When she could no longer even speak to herself, her faced turned to slate like a buddhist statue, and she could not move.