Twilight pokes out from beneath the boundary.

I don't know if there’s a point in resisting much longer.

I try to savor the idea that the clouds observe my actions, but it’s too conceited, for the universe has no time for ants.

It’s strange that this is all there is to it, a bit of scenery here and a few conversations there.

Will I understand once my body becomes one with this terrain?

The common folk leave letters, money, something of value behind. I don't have that. I own nothing except for the sorry excuse of what I had claimed to be my heart, lying between random strokes I used to call art. But, despite this, I forfeit my belongings. For I am unsuitable. My merit is null. Because I’ve changed again.

Today, I throw every sentiment away, as I move towards this unguarded bay. The grass is crunchy beneath my muddy toes, but that is okay. I say: “This is the last time, I will not bother you anymore. Grow as you will, I leave you now, wishes unfulfilled and stomach empty. Do not wither as I did. Do not live as I have. Do not hope as I’ve aspired, and do not tremble, from the bitter cold of souls that do not know what you know.”

My nails dig into my palm. I brace myself for this final voyage, but something is not right. The ground is still singing, and the wind still roaring, not one name but two. I am torn. Torn between an irreversible need to jump and a thought that screams: do not involve another, do not ruin a life.

So I wait. And wait. And wait with chills that run up my arms, heavy prayers that I do not pronounce. The presence is not leaving, and I am still drowning. Perhaps it is only a trick, or Grim himself coming to greet me.

They come closer.

Eventually, they hold out a hand with the words: “Stranger, what are you doing on this land?”