The last time I found myself here I was twelve. Just a child blinking up at the skyline and wondering why it was changing colours. I think you walked with me for a time and perhaps you tried to explain; but why would a child be interested in such knowledge when there was so much to see?
The skyline is fractured but fixed as I stand here now, and I am not as interested in the horizon as I once was. I feel that if I take just one single step I’ll never be able to stop. I’ll walk right off the edge of this place and land in another. I’ll keep walking and walking until no amount of aid will keep me upright and I’ll fall through all the worlds there are.
I can see so much from here, so much more than I remember, but can I reach it all? My memories of you are fond but jagged. And when you told me I’d be able to return I remember thinking you a liar. Yet here I am on the edge of this fading island lost to the distance between.
There is wind and sound and light here, but are those figures in the distance my imagination? I feel as though I have missed something, and I am paying for that loss with the confusion I had then. But this time your gentle tone is not here to quiet me and your kind smile can not set me at ease.
Am I lost?
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