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I feel like I'm on a dark, wooded street. I'm under a lonely streetlamp, and beyond the light is nothing but inky blackness. It's cold, but not unbearable. In the darkness are all of the faces of the people I know, but they do not see me, nor can I hear anything more than muffled voices. I feel like the light is a burden upon me, and if I could simply free myself of this primeval fear, then I could rejoin reality and be rid of these doubtful thoughts. But this is the path I've chosen, unaware of how long the night would be, and I cannot move myself to stray. So I suppose I'm just waiting for the day to come, or for the light to go out, before I can walk again among the living.