~~It was cold, so very cold.  I know this is a dreadful way to start off.  But that’s really all I can say about it, really all I can say….  No other senses or emotions, just the cold.  Just the terrible, awful freezing cold.  Devouring my soul, eating away at me.  Itching, biting, chewing at my inside.  Outside of the cold it could burn like hell, but in me it didn’t matter how hot it was.  It burned with freezing furry ate away at my very being.  You have no idea, no concept.  Of the way this felt.  No one can ever know what it is to feel like that.  The burning, freezing emptiness.  A dark void of everything but the gnawing at your being.  Before the cold.  There was, something else.  Before the cold……  Seems like a strange concept, the cold held me captive for, so very long.  They tell me the cold should be gone now, and I don’t tell the doctors that it isn’t.  It’s mostly gone, I’ll give them that.  But not completely.  Sometimes I wake at night, lay in bed.  Feeling softly, hardly at all.  Chewing, eating away at me, at all that I’ve put there.  Every wall I built, every fake laughter and cheerfulness, I feel it slowly, creeping eating away at me hungrily.  Ever hungry is the cold, because what I have now is not nearly so filling as before.  Not nearly.  Not at all.  What I had before was real.  What I have now is makeshift.  What I have now, is imaginary.  Something I let them all believe I have, but don’t.  How could I ever have what I lost again?  I couldn’t, don’t you all see that?  I couldn’t.  The cold, chewed it all away.  But before the cold?  Was there ever a before?  It whispers doubts in my heart, telling me there was no time before the cold.  But I remember.  Before the cold, seems like a very, very dreadfully long time ago.  Doesn’t it?  The way I say it, the way I speak the words.  But you can’t hear my voice can you.   I bet you can’t, thoughts of you who can are fortunate.  For you, this is but another story, told to scare children in the dark.  Because I know some out there, some don’t hear my voice.  They feel it.  They feel it, wiggling, working its way into their soul.  I feel them whispering to me, no.  But this only proves to me that you do.  I feel it, don’t you?  Feel the way my words wiggle my way inside your soul.  And I bet you feel a tickle, hardly anything.  Could’ve been the beating of your heart, couldn’t it?  That’s what your convincing yourself it was.  Oh, but trust me your already too far.  It’s too late.  But that was no beating of your heart.  That was the cold, finding its way into your soul.  With the coldness eating you, it won’t be mine much longer.  I’ll tell you that.  It’ll be gone from me, its eaten all I have.  All I have left for it is things that are fake, manufactured.  The cold doesn’t like pretend things darling.  Only the real beating heart, flesh, blood, emotion, and I don’t have those things anymore.  All I have for it now are the words, my words.  That will pass the cold on to you.  Oh but darling, it’s too late.  You should have recognized it for what it was when you first felt it.  The little tickle in your soul.  You’ve only yourself to blame.  But it’s too late for that now, oh its far too late darling.  Far too late.  You see, its already there.  Eating away at you.  Can’t you feel it?  Can’t you feel it darling.  Tell me you can, oh tell me you can!  I want to hear you say the words!  Oh I already feel it; I already feel it leaving me.  Oh cant you tell darling?  Can’t you feel it?   Tell me you feel it.
  I know the coldness.  The way it eats your soul.   Weakens it.  Kills it really, takes it away from you.  Takes everything away from you darling.  Can’t you see that? Are you foolish still?  Even after I have tricked you.  Do you still believe it is just the mere beating of your heart?  Still?  I know you can feel that its more.  I know darling.  Oh poor little child.  I am weak, so very weak from the cold.  But I am not stupid.  The only way to get rid of the cold, itching at me heart, chewing at my soul, the only way to do that is to satisfy its hunger.