And on that day, as the pale winter sun rose quietly in the sky and I awoke, I have found that the mist that has wrapped me for so long has finally dissipated. I rubbed my eyes, and stared into desolation.
I have come a long, long way. The weight I carry, light as I first put it on my back, has grown heavy. Very, very heavy. It is with half-asleep eyes and a mind still half-caught in a dream that I look around me, and note the absolute wasteland. It is only now, when I begin to fully awake, that I find misery has took a hold of me, and it is only now that I find it held me for a very, very long time.
 
A chill passes through me, and dully I note that the heavy coats I wear don't keep me warm anymore, and that I can't remember the last time they have. The socks I wear are wet, and I dully note I can't remember what it was like to have dry ones. A light shower begins to pour, and I can't remember a day without one.
It is only now, when the mist has departed and revealed the dead land around me that I realize how far I've come. Not far into my goal - there is no goal, it disappeared like a naive fantasy - but far away from home, far away from heat and far away from comfort and far away from being happy.
 
My mind feels empty. Racing thoughts of what I am, sharp words and serrated accusations, some spoken by others and some by me, come to a standstill. I feel heavy, but sinking to the exposed ground as I am feels wrong. There's a withered tree, off in the distance, I'll reach it.
And maybe,
maybe then I'll give up.