He sat on the peak of the white mountain and submerged deeply in his thoughts. His chest felt heavy as his lungs gasped for air, but he hasn’t really felt anything since that one day. Most words he knew became mere misconceptions since he had no idea of how they were supposed to make him feel anymore.

He wasn’t empty inside. His insides were butchered. He had been slaughtered, torn into pieces. His flesh was ripped. His bones? Shattered. A million times. Everything would grow back but meaning. He was immortal, and damned to remain this way forever.

His bony fingers ran through the skin on his face. He stared at his blueish fingernails for endless seconds. Everything was endless to him. He looked down and tried to reach everything beyond his grasp. He wasn’t afraid, he had nothing to lose. He used to think that eventually the meaning of the words would fade away, and yet they vanished into thin air. ‘Who would ever want this?’, he pondered.

But the only thing he heard in response was the cold wind’s gust.