Status: Ever so slowly being updated.

Unending Trails

My dream was always to quench that itchy spot of wanting to see what this world had to offer. To see, at last, what all I was missing... what all I had been missing under the roof of the sweet warmth I called home.

Each story they read me, each legend they told, every word they spoke was placed into my mind. Engrained for future use, building excitement for a time that I knew I'd revisit it. Perhaps I'd be in the lands that no man has ever been. Maybe reach a feat that once was thought impossible to reach.

I soon realized it was all just as it was. Stories, legends... words. The times I'd look forward to the warm thoughts I always thought it to be are the times I was the most stupid.

Naive. Gullible to my own fantasies. I'd betrayed myself, and now? Now what's left?

I placed my hand on the void he had left. It was all I could do. The pain was inescapable —ever so enthusiastic to follow me and whatever I did. It ate away, eager to do more as I'd make even the slightest movement.

Was this what I wanted? Is this what lies ahead on the path that I follow?

If so, I want nothing more than to sit the rest of my time here. To helplessly lay against the bark of the trunk, and smile to myself of those same dreaded warm thoughts, pleading them to cover my ears, cover my eyes —to embrace me from the cold coming of death.

Though I think to myself, did even I want that? Was it fear, or was it impatience? Did I really want it to be the blinding mask —for it to whisper to me that all would be fine, or did I crave it to be my final thoughts? To hear from it those words that I so badly wanted to hear: it was time.

That perhaps, I'd just wanted the fog to consume me? To say to the Creator that, indeed, I was ready. I've spent too long here on this godforsaken land.

My eyes wandered through everything that was around me. Trees, trees... and more trees. The many tall shadowed-figures were around me, aligning in a sense that created an illusionary dark wall with the slits of the moonlight being the only thing that kept my eyes sane. I gathered all the will I had to tilt my head back, allowing my eyes to see that the sky was coming to darkness... a solemn one that maybe only I was the unlucky one to be like this. The stars gleaming with boastful light and the silhouettes of the treetops were all but softness for the jagged edges.

My arms drooped at my sides —my hands lay upright, wanting to move. My legs stretched outwards, and, just as I had asked for it, I waited for the dark mist to come. I concentrated to pull my head back down and see myself. The cloth was stained red as if it had everything under control. It stared back at me, waiting for me to make my choice.

What would I do? Was I even in the position to make a choice? Maybe not... but one thing I did know, is that hatred filled me. It coursed through my veins and was the filler for my injuries. I hated him with every fiber I had.

Ironically though, I thank him for what he'd done. I feared it all this time, and now look at me; I've changed. I guess sometimes, you just have to be pushed into danger's jaws to finally realize what it's already taken from you.

If only I could express my gratitude. Though deep down, I'd see him again. It's the fate of us monsters that have the luxury of knowing where we'd go when we pass.

Though, if you can hear me, thank you, from one monstrosity to another. Lucky for me, I had peace —and in peace, I'll pass.

Though, as much as I like to dread it, I wanted my last thoughts to be of warmth. After all, I'd hate for him to hold me in cold hands.

And so, I wander off to where I knew I'd always go. I leaned back my head against the bark and stare at the beautiful illuminated and dark sky, letting my eyes close as they wanted to all this time. I wait for him to come, warming myself to the sweet warm thoughts I always had... the ones I'd take with me.

From the beginning and to my end, I give thanks to my naive little self.