To say that he had doubts would be an understatement. He even wondered if the last four months of work had been all to regain the time and place he had lost in an earlier life.
Fear had driven him to find forever. Despair kept him in pursuit. Disillusionment was his compass, and disdain his fuel.
Now that he was finally, truly, and unequivocally on his own, memories of his final moments with his loved ones flashed back through his mind.
They had had tears in their eyes.
But what he thought he had seen as love, pain, and anguish in their faces, he realized now was only pity and despair for the poor fool willing to die in pursuit of his hopes and dreams. They weren't crying because they would miss him. They were crying because they felt sorry for him, sorry for anyone who would so willingly dive headlong into oblivion...'fore up until he left, the fool still believed it was true.
Now he only wanted to believe, because that was all there was left.
Having cast off everything he had ever known, he was filled with bitterness and resentment. Bitterness from having lost his faith, and resentment for having had any to begin with.
He had conquered his fear of being alone, but in doing so, solitude had become his best friend.
As a boy he had gazed up at the night sky, and now he was nothing more than a speck within the backdrop of his childhood. In a place so vast, so empty, and yet so ultimately fitting for him.