It's like I'm a child again. The contours of my imagination has formed a phantom which haunts my every waking moment. The presence is overbearing consuming me in flames of the unknown. Despite the pleasure of it my first instinct is to flee. However, whatever my natural defenses are telling me to do, I stay. I stare the phantom in the face. There I see. I see so many things I want. I cannot understand why.

I reach my hand out to caress the wisps of shadows that beckon me. It is absolute torture. I see but I cannot touch. I begin to realize that I must touch another way, with my mind, my emotions, my heart. This is what frightens me the most. In order to feel like one with this I must expose myself. This is difficult. I guard myself as if I am a secret that no one is allowed to know. I let bits and pieces out but never all of it.

The phantom disappears only at night when I am fast asleep. Yet it is still there, skimming along the brim and cusps of my mind. I can feel the remnants of it when I wake for it is always there when I open my eyes. It is like I am a prisoner. What am I to do when I cherish freedom above all else (aside from loyalty of course)?

I have yet to remember the solution to the question.

Yes it is a like I am a child again but this is not how I had dreamed it when younger. Oh no not at all. This is much, much better for never had I imagined a phantom quite like this.