A new fear is growing, Isa…

No… not new… just… old; a fear I thought I would never feel again.

I met a young girl… she reminds me of you. Stubborn and tough despite her young age. It’s not like she was given much of a choice. Makes me wonder where’s your mind these days. Did this world get to you? Have you grown bitter, have you buried that charming smile of yours and your witty remarks? Regardless, it was not this girl’s resilience what got to me, but what was underneath.

I have tried to leave this place and yet I find myself staying one more day… and another, and another…

I keep telling myself I must continue to look for you but then I find myself frozen, unsure of where to go. The place you called home, like mine, was destroyed. And I hope that, like me, you were not there to be destroyed with it.

My thoughts torture me, making me believe that if you were alive you’d be here. You would have found your way to this town. You still might…

I find myself checking the outposts and protective tactics of this place. There used to be a group here, protecting them, but they are gone and without organization these broken utopia will not last. But WHY do I find myself caring? Why am I not leaving and moving on as I always have? I hate myself for thinking that I’m letting you go but I also hate myself for believing that I have nothing left but wandering aimlessly and numb through this wasteland.

I fear, my dear sister. I fear this feeling I feel. I fear it… because it’s hope.