The cold came back. Don’t speak to me, I’m sulking. I hide my face under a hood and pretend no one else exists. Or rather, I pretend that I don’t exist. Either way, I’m alone, and no one can see me, touch me, or hear my cries.
I know what they want of me. I’ve always known. But I can’t. I can’t become that. God knows I’ve tried, endlessly, hopelessly. Gave everything I had inside but it wasn’t enough. Each quiet day reminds me of how I’ll never fall into place. I’m an outcast, bound to being the blistering cold anywhere I go. It’s my curse. Are you cursed, too?
I manage to find the sun from time to time, only to be reminded of what I’ll never have. The cold lets me leave for a bit. It allows me to experience the light in its purest form – from above. The light not of this earth. So far, far away. Yet, powerful enough to reach my human eyes. True power. True light. Why can I see it, why must I see it? When I can’t…touch it…it’s so far. Yet so close. Agonizing.
The cold will let me out for a day…to see it. Just to remind me what I could never be – who I’ll never be. That light, that brings much joy to others, to everyone on the planet. I’ll never be that. But the only reason I want to be that person, is because I know I can’t be that person. When I think about it, I’m fine with the cold. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s a place of comfort where I’m free to be as dark and doomed as my heart feels it should be.
The cold. The sun. I am one. I crave the other. Does my sun exist? Or will I always be in the cold?