Things have been... Kind of different since you left. I don't even know when exactly you left.
They now tell me I have hit rock bottom.
But who said that there even is some kind of bottom?
They say the higher you are, the deeper you can fall.
But I have not hit a ground since I started falling and only just proceeded.
I've been landing on seemingly sturdy nets which slowly ripped through as I moved
And on the way, my skin scraped on the harsh walls of a cliff
With the hope if being able to reach out and grab
Which wounded my hands so I do not have the courage to reach out anymore.
Im actually not sure anymore if this is a punishment or a reward.
Is it you, who now purposely touches the sharp walls?
Is it you, who never actually didn't fall when they grabbed a rock on the wall, and desperately tried to make their way up?
Are we really the same person?
Well, maybe we are the same body.
Which has now become a haunted house.
And only the faded pictures in broken frames on the dusty walls mourningly remind me of who I once was and will never be again.
I hope you are doing okay. I really hope.
Because it won't be that long until the hours of light shorten.
Leaving you, leaving me, leaving us both in the frosty realm of gloom.
Water is the murderer of the stone.