I'd managed thus far, dragging myself up and about when I could muster the energy. I had faded back into nothingness, let my duties fall and it surprises me even now that no one has come to remove me from the Throat. I had isolated myself for a year now, breaking slowly at the lack of contact. I only had been in the presence of few, Ampere and Shahrokh were the only ones I'd actually spoken to. The only one I kept in constant touch with was Yseult, listening to her babble about how Shahrokh was doing and how I needed to take care of myself.

Shahrokh— my son. I craved to help him, to guide him through the world and show him (ha) the ropes of life. His childhood was slowly creeping away, his ascent into adulthood approaching quickly. I longed to see him grow up into someone respectable and important, someone who was independent and strong. But with the way he was now, that would never come. He cowered at everything, from a gentle wind to the scuffling of his own feet. 

He was a mess. 

And I certainly wasn't any help. I was ever changing, from pleasant to down right sobbing in a matter of minutes. Shahrokh triggered the changes in moods but he wasn't the only trigger. There was one night where I thought I heard Aurelia and Alala laughing together nearby, sent into panic and fury and relief before realizing I had gone mad. They were not there, and the laughter was nothing more but my mind's desperate craving for happiness. It was gradually getting worse, and I was getting so desperate to hide my failing mental state. I'd begun to push Shahrokh away in hopes he would continue his life and not continue to cling to me, a lonely broken woman, for comfort. I could provide none.

Today he had wandered on his own. He had willingly left my side and I felt the pain of watching him walk away, and it was today that I noted his growing grace in the strides he took, the no longer frantic tripping over even the smallest pebble. Maybe I'm just overreacting, but I could feel a tear slip down my cheek. 

I let him go, bidding him farewell behind his back in the form of a sorrowful whisper.

I'd been feeling all too much but all too little, devoid of feeling but bursting with emotions so complex and terrifying. I felt nothing, so easily slipping behind a facade of grim expressions and neutral words. Inside I begged to feel, to no longer be some void of emotion, some empty nothingness. But I didn't want to feel so much despair either. I didn't want to be overwhelmed by tears and painful cries late at night when my thoughts got dark. I didn't want to be alone either— I didn't want to be a lot of things but fate had plans for me.  "talk talk talk"