You remember the blue sky, the stars, the snow, the monarch butterflies, your pitch-black feet, and the smell of broken blood vessels inside your nose. It always smelled cold. Most of all, you remember always having felt how you feel right now.
Staring for hours into the mirror trying to see the purpose of your existence, the loneliness carving into you deeply, greedily trying to consume something that you worried was not even there. Going hungry. The type of hunger no food could ever satisfy.

What has really changed all this time? You're still so hollow. It still gnaws at you. But you're strong enough that even if nobody hears, you speak in codes and whispers. Who will search for you? Will you ever be solved?