As I sit atop this mountain, watching the little herds of sheep make their way to water, I write to whoever may read this: This is the burden I carry with me. Many poor souls are tortured and lost in their battles of self-emptiness.

I am their guide into the underworld. Where there is no Hell, nor is there Heaven. It is whatever the individual chooses it to be. The children are lost in their playful imaginations, never able to grow old.

Forever stuck as children in a never-ending cycle. As I approach them, their innocent faces turn white with fear; their lips tremble in terror; tears start forming in the corners of their eyes. This is the look of betrayal. The look of abandonment.

I am just a guide sent by those above me. I have no say in what happens. I can only face the formalities and burdens that come with this. But just once, I wish the world would stop, even if momentarily.