His open wounds have been bleeding for a while now, and sound has left his bones and body. He’d never thought that some wounds could never close, and some scars could never be forgotten.
Pain has become a burden on his back, pinning him in one place so he can hear the blood pulsing in his ears, telling him that he’s alive without actually living. He wonders if this is what it’s like to wander around in one place, unseeing, un-hearing, having unspoken words with his shadow.
It’s a pain that keeps everyone else away, afraid that he’ll somehow infect them with the same problem. Sometimes, he doesn’t remember what it’s like to not be lonely. Other times, he’d wonder what it would be like to just give up. But whatever the feeling is, it’s always mixed with the heart-rising feeling of catching a toe against a stone, so all he can do is hold on and hope there will be someone to either catch him or pull him up when he falls.