I can do things but I cannot really feel them. It's been almost three centuries since I passed away, and I can't remember the smell of grass or the taste of fruits. I have distant memories of my favourite things, like soft silk dresses, holding hands, sweet cakes, stroking my cat's fur, but I do not know what they feel like, not anymore. Usually people don't even see or hear me, I float in the middle of a crowd feeling more alone than ever. I'm next to nothing, diminishing every day, like an echo in the wind. I do not walk, I do not sleep, I exist. Barely. The world changes around me, but I never change. You get used to it though, not living. But sometimes I wish I'd gone with him, the grey man who came for my soul when I died. Though I admit I'm still so very afraid of letting go, I wonder where he would've taken me.
Poistin gorgon-tytön mekosta niskan taakse solmittavat nauhat ja helmasta karmivan ruman vihreän rimpsun. Siitä tuli nätti ja simppeli pikkumekko, Spectralle sopiva.
Anteeksi typerän synkkä teksti tuossa alussa, taidan olla katsonut liikaa typerän synkkää Supernaturalia tänään.