Lost.
No, not lost. Found, yet not found. I know where I am, as do they, or so we think.
They guide my steps now, their clamour less insistant since my agreement. Sometimes they grant me moments of peace, but such times do not last long. The silence gives way to whispered insistance, a need on their part to communicate or warn.
Even in the times that they remain quiet for prolonged periods, I find it difficult to think. The ideas, the thoughts slip from my grasp so quickly. Finest hair upon the wind. Ribbons of light being swallowed by the darkness. Such ephermeral nonsense drifting beyond - before and behind me.
I follow their instruction, eager to be free and to once more find warmth.
Cold now. So cold.
I speak the words to those who knew me; I am glad for you. I mean it, but feel it not. I feel naught but the chilling emptiness, the yawning frosted cavern calling me ever on into its frozen embrace. No joy, no love, no affection touches my heart, leading me to wonder where it was that I lost such an important part of myself.
Smiles like memories. The correct twitching of facial muscles to appease those who look upon me and fear what they see. Is it fear? I know not. I know only that my presence causes much discomfort for those who once cared.
Alone now, save for the shadows. It is best this way.
Better but saddening, or such would it be if sorrow affected me now. There is nothing there, nothing but the absence of what was.
Would the heat burn me now? Were I to touch the flame of affection and regard once more, would the fire consume the empty shell I have become?
I fear the end of this journey. I fear my return and what I might find when finally I am myself. Will I be reduced to cinder and ash or consigned to the snow for eternity?
The risk is worth it. Walk I shall toward the end, my head held high as he taught me.
