I try to reach out in front of me, but I can’t see enough to tell if I have hands to touch with. The blackness is thick, and I can’t fell anything but space in front of me.
I can’t even tell if my eyes are actually open.
The only thing I can say is that the cold pierces me like a million needles; pricking my skin but never managing to draw blood.
The lack of … everything, makes me want to scream, but I can’t move.
This begs the question;
What am I?