Author's Note: Some might find this story a bit strange. It came to me one day and I can't really explain it anymore than what's written here. Interpret it the way you would, I guess. So... read on.

Snow In My Pocket:
A Descend Into Madness

If I didn't have you, it wouldn't be worth it to take another breath.
Please see me – see me as I am,
And forgive me, for all of my wrongs.
I want to forever be... anything you want me to be.

I remember the days when you would look at me and I couldn't say a word. I was engulfed. Everything that you were had merged with my very essence. And if by chance you were ripped from me, I would bleed for eternity.

You were the spirit of the sun and the soul of the moon. You were the good in every crevice of my life and I depended solely on your smile.

Strolling through the woods, with your hand in mine, I felt as if your light would burn me with your closeness. But your light could never burn; it could only caress all of my hidden wounds, tasting it with its gentle yellow rays.

When you wrote, I would sit by you, listening to the soft scraping sound of your pen across the page. Sometimes you wouldn't stop for hours and I would sit, with my ear pressed against the soft wood of the table, listening. I would hear the gentle rustling of paper as you turned the page and the smooth glide of your fingers across its surface.

At times, there would be no pause between the flow of your ideas and the moment they were spilled across the page. You would look around you, around me, looking for anything, anything at all; a receipt, a napkin... sometimes the back of your hand. A blank surface was all that you needed and the ideas, like an ever storming ocean current, would charge through your pen and onto the page.

After awhile, I learned to carry a note pad with me whenever I was with you. And you, in turn, learned to reach out your hands to me whenever the storm came. It was during those occasions that I was your saviour and I would submerse myself in your smile, the crease above your eyebrows and the purse of your lips as your pen flew.

What I would've given to be the page that you wrote on, because then, the ink of your inspiration would be absorbed through my surface and I would finally see through your eyes.

I never understood what I could possibly bring for you... not when you brought me the world; it paled in comparison. But you chose me - out of the billions of people on earth - you chose me. I would die happy.

And one day, you didn't recognize me and I felt my soul collapse.

"Snow, snow... so cold," you would repeat over and over again. You would rub your hands up and down the side of your thighs, and most of all, you would shiver as if a blizzard had swept through your entire body.

What was wrong?

I didn't know and neither did anyone at the institution.

I found you one day, crouched across your bed in a grotesque position. I came closer and saw that your legs were covered in blood. I could see that your pants were ripped and thrown to the side. Your fingernails continued to scrap across the broken skin on your thighs as I approached.

"Snow, snow..." you sobbed.

"No, don't do that," I pleaded, my hands reaching out to grasp your bloodied ones.

You pulled away from me violently and I restrained them in one hand while lifting your chin with the other. The look you gave me then, I would never forget. Sorrow and pain laced in every shade of your darkened eyes and the stale tears on your face formed grimy roads across your pale cheeks.

"Snow..." you tried to continue.

"Where's the snow?" I asked softly, keeping my hand gentle even has it caged both of yours

"Snow... in my pockets..."

I glanced at your battered cotton pants discarded at the corner of your bed. The pockets were ripped.

"In my pockets... it's so cold. It's hurting me... so cold..." Your teeth chattered.

"There's no snow, love. Look." I lifted the tattered pants so that you could have a closer look and you screamed.

Dropping the mass of cloth immediately, I wrapped my arms around your trembling frame. You were so thin, so frail. When had it become this way? When had I lost you?

But my tears stayed at the back of my eyes, never quite spilling through my closed eyelids as I continued to hold you. You sobbed harder and I rocked you gently, back and forth… back and forth. If not in the nightmare that lived in your mind, I wanted you to be safe in my arms. That was all I asked for.

I walked home in the cold that night, the blood from your legs still clinging to my jeans and shirt. I showered with my clothes on.

That was the only time that you let me comfort you. When it happened again, you just kept on screaming and I could not touch you. I was asked to leave the room.

I sat with my back against the wall, listening to your screams. You struggled fiercely against the doctors. You didn't let anyone through anymore... not even me.

I began to realize the true meaning of darkness.

Then one day, you stopped talking altogether.

I felt blind without your voice.

And still, I came everyday to see you. Sometimes, I wouldn't be allowed to enter your room, so I would sit outside, listening to your screams as you fought the snow storm in your mind.

When the first snowfall came, I was terrified. What would it do to you? I left work early that day and rushed to see you.

The sight of you stunned me. You were standing outside in your nightgown – you were no longer allowed to wear pants – and your feet were bare.

You stood in the snow. But besides the glowing smile on your face, I saw nothing else. Suddenly it didn't matter that you no longer recognized me and it didn't matter that you no longer spoke. You, my sun, had risen again to light up my world. Even for just a minute, just a second, it didn't matter. I felt complete.

When your feet got cold, you looked my way. I lifted you up in my arms and you slipped your thin arms around my neck. Your eyelids slid shut and the smile on your face didn't fade. I took a breath to inhale your sunshine and took you back to your room.

That night, I stayed longer than usual. Your smile stayed even as your eyes remained closed. It had been three months since I last held your hand. I thought you had fallen asleep, but then, I heard something that I thought I would never hear again.

You spoke.

You told me a story.

I caught every word that fell from your lips in my palms. Not even one would be allowed to escape.

Your story was about a girl. She loved taking walks in the woods. She especially loved the trees during the winter time when snow would cover the branches, almost as if they had put on winter jackets. The girl had a boyfriend that she loved very much. The two of them would walk, hand in hand, past the trees and he would always point out remarkable facts about the wildlife around them. One winter day, she waited for him by her favourite tree. As she waited, an inspiration came to her and her fingers searched for paper and she found none. If he were there, he would have paper. But where was he? However, the inspiration couldn't wait for him, so in desperation, she wrote in a patch of smooth, untouched snow beneath the tree. When she was done, the sun was just leaving the sky. Where was he? She looked at the words she had written in the snow; she wanted so much for him to read them. As the sun disappeared, the girl began to cry. She had no paper or pen. How would she show him her precious words? Tears spilled down her face as she bent to touch the snow. How special the snow was, filled with such beautiful words. If only she could keep them for him, so that he could read them too. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. Scooping up the snow in large handfuls, she deposited each handful into the pockets of her jeans. Her tears were beginning to cloud her vision, but she continued to stuff snow into her pockets. Soon, it became so cold that her hands shook, her legs shook and her whole body shook and she fell into the snow, no longer able to stand. And still, he didn't come.

The world spun and I felt my heart crash.

I knew who she was waiting for.

Outside, the snowflakes danced.