Goosebumps rise upon my thin exhausted arms.
The wind , harsh against the little warmth radiating from inside.
It's hard to see through the murky fog of the world.
A cold , dark  world.
There's no rhyme nor reason to continue to exist.
It wanted me out and now it has nearly succeeded.
The only thing keeping me here is the sound inside my head.
The persuasion of reason.