Know this.

Do you know what it feels like to hold a dying person? To feel the warmth of their precious blood run red across your lap? To hear the pain in their labored breath, knowing they will stutter into impending stillness?

Or can you comprehend what it's like when their fingers suddenly sag as they no longer possess the strength to hold your hand? Or that quiet noise they make when the very last shard of air is crushed from their lungs, the one that echoes through my skull like thunder?

No, you don't. How could you?

There is no way to imagine the crippling agony that stalks me by light of sun and moon. The nightmare of an image that clings to me tighter than skin. It pierces my bones, scraping them hollow with its icy fingers. And my flesh decays under its damp touch. And my body shakes from the spreading chill.

Do you know what it feels like to hold a dying person? To feel the warmth of their precious blood run red across your lap? To hear the pain in their labored breath, knowing they will stutter into impending stillness?

My soul festers with wounds that time itself knows no remedy for.My soul festers with wounds that time itself knows no remedy for. You cannot know this pain. But you will.

You may doubt me now and I under why. You might think it can't happen to you, but you cannot be everywhere at once. Someday somewhere I will catch up to those you love and then, only then, will you know my pain.

On that day when you feel their soul wrenched from their body as you stand witness know it was I who cut the thread. It was I who took them from you and you'll only have yourself blame.

You will be powerless in the face of death just as I was.

Know this and know you will be alone.