Frozen Reflections.

I am a solitary figure, gliding through the murky depths of my self-made lake of loneliness. Its watery embrace has become all too familiar, its slimy despair and denial a second skin.

From this vantage point, I observe the world above, watching as others form connections and then shatter them with casual indifference. Their vows of eternal togetherness ring hollow in my ears, as I know all too well the emptiness that follows.

It's getting boring here. I find myself wanting to get to shore and join the clowns. They speak weirdly and act like dumb twins. Teasing them used to get me through the day but not anymore. I want to be a clown too, with my very own clown twin.

Also, the lake has begun to freeze over, and its once-familiar waters have grown treacherous. The clowns turn their painted faces towards me, and I sense pity in their gaze. How dare they? I am the architect of my own loneliness, the master of my self-imposed exile. Yet, as the ice creeps closer, I cannot help but wonder if it is too late to build a key and unlock the door to a world beyond my own.