It's like hot flashes, but cold - ethereal touches of emotion passing through the body.
It's ghostly entities, drawn by the natural misery of the mind. They are composed of suffering, of pain, of embarrassment, and seek only to feed themselves and grow ever larger. They tease their way into one's mind, poking and prodding and making vague promises, whispering lies and half truths, always seemingly logical. Always, always appearing to make sense.
 
I don't get them much anymore, but when they torment the others, oh! I see them passing through one, clutching at his breast ravenously, trying to feed. I see the head drop, the lines sag. I try to ward them off, and sometimes I make momentary success - at the wave of a firebrand they slink back, their claws still blindly grasping. But absolute protection has to come from oneself - it's well and good to make these momentary headways, but they always creep back in, they always find the blind spot.
I can't guard everyone completely, I can't even guard one completely. I know this for a fact.
 
So I strive, I do, to further this as a goal of my own. I see it as a matter of personal concern to me to see these who blindly struggle in the darkness, with the darkness, be nourished with strength and poise. It seems a worthy endeavor to help them to be firebrands of their very own, firebrands of their own making, that will burn bright against their adversaries. Their success is my own, their failure a steady reminder of the work that still needs to be done, the effort not yet exerted.
 
How empowered I feel to pursue these interests this time of year. Truly these cold flashes pass through me at the worst of times, misery and loneliness, but they can only do it that way - a cold flash, a distinct difference made between the warm air and the suddenly frozen body. And now, the temperature drops, and drops - my body will be cold, and so will the air, and the foes unseen will know me not. I will be a ghost myself, wandering unseen, striking with the weapons I have fashioned - my own firebrand, the sureness that scatters fluttering doubts, the light to clear away the bog.
 
What nonsense I'm driven to type when the issue is of great personal interest, truly.