I contemplate ending things now.
To Force Myself to leave the Conventions of this universe that I call my own.
But to no avail can I try to change into what I am to become before the clock chimes.
I am an Accumulo Nimbus of Conflict.
I am trapped between possibilities that cannot possibly co-exist together.
I have trapped myself into a vault again, the only colour, varying shades of grey.
To represent to absence of my emotion.
I cannot start nor feel. Am Ice already?
I want it to end now, to fall my way into the abyss of Oblivion.
I presently find myself a ghost, I have condemned myself to this strange embodiment.
I cannot whisper those Melancholy words, they are not strong enough anymore.
Too many lips have touched upon those once Forsaken words.
I do not feel. I am Desolate. Any emotion would be welcome now, if only for a split second, to drive away this silent, raging turmoil, like a sandstorm.
I have only a few more strings left in my hand.
I feel unnatural.
I am my own enemy and savior. But I cannot yet be what I am to become.
I am a ghost in a lead shell.
I do not live. I exist.
I see through only grey, I feel something now, an unnusual presence...
I remember.
I remember! But, it is only through an emotionless trance.
This is the last entry of Grey meets Ice.
For frost, I feel something is awakening.