What am I looking for?

Am I lost in the silence?

Am I eternally gone from the Earth, forever to wander around the lonely existence before me? Perhaps.

Perhaps I am meant to meander around the world from grave to grave, never finding a resting place lowly enough for a being as cold as me.

There will never be so desolate a place that I am fit for it. Never will there be a monument so haunted and frigid that my lack of a soul can find a hellish peace of eternity that is miserable enough for me to deserve.

Maybe this is how my afterlife is meant to be served; in a prison of my own making.

It sure seems fitting. I should be forever locked in a melancholy state, never to unfreeze from the misery. That seems like the perfect eternity for a monster as poorly lived as me.