Cold.

I couldn't pinpoint how long it had been.

My body began to shiver, and my teeth chattered in the ice-cold air that seemed to have engulfed my whole being.

I licked my lips, turning up to the moonlight when I felt it.

Falling onto my knees and my arms were snowflakes, each speck of white leaving me freezing more than I was before.

Despite the new surroundings that I hated so much, I felt a certain calm in the air. I reached out to catch more snow in my palm as I smiled.

I once again felt myself fall into a deep hole of sentiment as I looked out and missed the sunflowers.

Instead, I saw pine trees and blankets of snow on the ground, untouched and unmarked by anyone.

"For some, it's the desert. For you, it's snow," a voice said from behind me. "You must hate yourself."

The entrance of these beings no longer took me by surprise. When I turned to greet her, I found myself staring.

She looked exactly like me.

"You look like me," I stuttered.

"I am you," she replied. "Look at you, dwelling in your own faults. Has Fear been nice to you?"

I found myself wondering how similar she would be to the previous person. She chuckled lowly.

"I am nowhere as nice as Fear."

"Nice?" Fear was not nice. "I don't want to guess who you are. At least Fear had a transition."

She shrugged, giving the impression that she did not want to waste time.

"I am only harsh because you make me out to be." She had on the exact same clothes I was wearing. "I am reality."

"Reality is harsh, whether I make it out to be or not," I replied, unimpressed.

She must have caught on, the woman sighing.

"I am your reality," she corrected herself.

"My reality?" I asked, not understanding the concept.

"I am the reality you have in your head, dear," she murmured, a soft smile traveling up her features before she crossed her legs over the other. "The reality you have built for yourself. I am your 'I AM'."

She hesitated for a beat of silence, pondering what to say. I waited, as patience was a virtue of mine. Finally, she decided that the following was the best analogy.

"I am what you see in the mirror," she finalized. "I am you, at this moment, right here. Innocence was the reality of your past, and I am the reality of your present."

I was exhausted at this point. I only realized it when my shoulders felt heavy. Her gaze was on me as she opened her arms.

It took me a moment to understand what she wanted.

Reality took it upon herself to pull me towards her, so I was tucked to her side with my head under her chin.

A wave of comfort washed through me, her hand on the small of my back, rubbing circles through the material of my cardigan. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel comforted. My eyes closed and pressed against the warm skin of her neck.

"It's been a while," I murmured, and she hummed, the vibration of her voice making me sigh. "It's been a while since I've felt comfort."

"You don't allow yourself to, that's why." We both basked in silence, Reality asking me what I felt.

What did I feel? Indifference, I thought.

Emptiness. No pain, just emptiness.

That was a start, right?

I didn't need to say it to know that she got it. We both shifted, looking out the window to see the snow fall heavily.

Never in my life did I ever think that reality could be as comforting as this. It was cold, but I felt warm with acceptance. In silent solace, she hugged me tightly.

"You do not get love from those who refuse to give it to you," Reality murmured, mimicking my action of trying to catch snowflakes. "And if you feel empty, you have to accept the fact that you must feel empty to feel full again. That is the reality of life."

A snowflake fell on my cheek, and it burned slightly from the frost. I brushed it away.

"Be gentle with yourself," she continued, and I perked up at her words, turning to tilt my head at her with how familiar they sounded to my ears.

"I wrote that," she told me. "Everyone's current reality is different, and that is yours. You're too hard on myself. You think you are nothing without your parents. You're afraid and you break every barrier of self-confidence you have when it comes to making mistakes. Because of that, you lack self-worth."

Her lips found my forehead.

I closed my eyes.

"Comfort yourself when you need to," she said, her thumb caressing my cheek.

She was the only one who had stepped in and embraced me as I am, and I thought that I should allow myself to do the same.

"Be gentle to yourself, my love."

My love.

I felt my heart swell, the train picking up speed. I did not want her to leave, my hands clamoring for her to stay, but the speed was enough for me to cower in the corner by the window and the seat when it flew off solid ground.

"There are still different versions of yourself you still can become!" her voice bellowed through the midst of the icy hurricane that was swirling all around me.

"Will I ever see you again?" I asked, in hopes of wanting to meet her again.

I'd rather not see you again, a thought popped up in my mind. Because if I do, it means that I have failed.