Self-Death

I am dreaming, and in my dream I reach out. I am searching for something, something that has been lost. I can't find it anywhere. My hand draws back, empty. There is nothing there, nothing that I can see, nothing that I can touch. My hands are cold. What am I looking for? What is it I have lost? Is it important? Is it worth searching for? My hands...my hands are numb. It is cold. I don't like it here. Why..? Why am I here?
I am dreaming again, but this time I don't reach out. What is the point, I tell myself. There is nothing there. I can no longer feel my legs. The cold is reaching out for me. Where is this chill coming from?
I am again lost in the dream. How much longer will I last, in this unremitting emptiness? I have forgotten what it felt like to be warm. I rail at this place, this hollowness that has swallowed me whole. What do you want!? But there is no answer.
No more fighting the dream. No more anger left inside me, only a curious numbness. I am tired. Why fight it anymore? I no longer care about the why. I am alone in this place...This cage without walls, this room without a door. No way out of here. Desolate and fatigued, yet I cannot even whimper. Any tears that fell before froze up within me. There is nothing left to do, nothing left to fight for.
No hope...the emptiness has won.