it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess; any

[zai]

have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
just a cage of rib bones and other various parts

It is strange to be back, to feel the threads of an old life pull at him, tug at old pieces of his should he thought long forgotten. When he wanders the meadow, like tonight, he can almost feel like his old self. He can close his grey eyes and imagine that his parents are back at home, that his siblings are waiting for him. He can imagine that they are all sitting around talking like old times and that he’ll walk up and see his parents turn their loving gaze to him. And he would be exuberant and bright and joyful—

All of the things he was before it all happened.

But they are not here. None of them. And it is difficult to not let a stone of bitterness sit in his chest, to eat away at him. It is difficult to not erect a wall around himself, to guard his heart against more heartache. His father had told him to go find himself, and so he had. He had wandered for years trying to uncover that which made him tick, to find his passion, and he had returned to their ghosts. 

He was no longer sure he liked who he was, who he found.

Still, he cannot deny to himself that he continues to look, that he continues to stare at the night sky trying to find answers that he is not sure exist. He just wants to feel alive; he just wants to hold onto something that’s real. It was what brings him here tonight, to the land washed in silver and emptied of bodies. It is what has him walking along the borders, his spotted body slipping in and out of shadows. 

Perhaps tonight will be the night that makes all of this worth it, that will make everything make sense.

He snorts. More likely, he’ll catch his death in the midst of all this snow. 

Either way, it was better than just sitting around and hoping for something to change.

so it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess
and to stop the muscle that makes us confess

ZAI