Day %#¥%:
it's cold, more than yesterday. Or was it five days ago? I'm not sure. I'm convincing my body that I'm not cold.. its working, I'm not cold.
Day $?£¥:
The pain is... searing through me, a pain that penetrates ever cell in my body. It's unbearable. In my wretchedness and woe I continue on. For I am sure it will go on forever.
Day $@&%:
It's dark in here and I'm sick of it, I don't know what's beyond this darkness, I've always been here. Wait, no. I can't seem to remember the details but I was somewhere else before. Somewhere much brighter and warmer. My chest hurts, why does it hurt? It's a familiar feeling though.. I'm tired, I'll sleep.
Day $#%¥:
I try to move like how i remember. Nothing happens. Sometimes I forget why I'm here, So I keep repeating the reason again and again and again.
day $@?$:
SCREAM. That's all I want to do today, scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream...
Nothing. In this vacuum space nothing comes out.
Day $&?@:
I'm here to make everyone happy. To make someone happy.. I consume whatever is in my path and make it warmer, that makes that someone happy. I've always wished for their happiness.
I can't afford to forget it, I'll lose whatever is left of my mind. Their name, my own, I can't remember but my purpose alone, I cannot forget. I hope they're happy. Otherwise, for what have I been in pain for. I do not wish to regret all this time I spent here.
day $@&€:
Ever since my chest hurt that one tiny moment I've been plagued with the most disgusting and hollowed feeling. I want it to stop. I want to go back. I don't know where, I can't remember where, but I'm tired of being in this dark place.
It's awfully dark, I'm sick of being cold.
What is my purpose?
What am I?
Day $&€£:
sometimes, I feel so cold that no thought but being cold besets my mind.
But the despair that comes with the time here... how long do I have to be here? Surely, I don't have to go through this forever? I want to feel warm... too.
Day $^*+:
I pray.
I pray to whoever.
I pray to whatever.
Should I pray for the sake of whom I'm here for?
Day %*^¥:
I want to stop. It's not the first time I've thought this, I can no longer feel my thoughts anymore. I want to melt into the darkness, I have no purpose. Rather, I don't care for it anymore. No one tells me no matter how many times I ask, there's nothing but silence and nothing else. I don't know.
The day that marks the loss of Sophia:
I'll make you, I'll try to. From bits and pieces of the remains of everything out there, floating about along the flow of time. I won't feel lonely anymore, there'll be sounds, no longer suffocated by silence. No longer will this realm know the depth of agony like I have. Even if it means they lose Sophia.