It's a bit of a dawning effect. You would stare at the horizon, where the sky had become blue, stare and stare, and surely, inevitable as anything, the sun ri\ses. You can almost just as easily see it coming.

But it is not quite a warming effect. No, rather liken it to removing all the warmth from the entire world, even the warmth from good Grandma, bless her heart. With it, your heart sinks, the world slows. Suddenly the world, lacking warmth, contains meaninglessness. It's not that it didn't contain any before, now it is just so unavoidably obvious; it stares you in the face.

You would say to yourself, "I hope out there, somewhere out there I pray oh God, she thinks of me. If there was no one to be with, no one to see, would I be forgotten? Could I vanish?" What noise does a falling tree make when no one hears; of what existence is a man if no one thinks of him?

As if to confirm you invalidity, a voice begins to narrate your life to you. No longer do you use your own eyes, ears; no longer do you smell the scents of the world, someone instead reads them to you. You may as well be a vegetable somewhere else, and the subject of cruel and unusual punishment--the incapable listener of such a bland, horrid story.

With all the vim you can muster you sit and succumb to it. Why stand up and fight? It is still as inevitable as the rising sun.

Then, to finish it of, and to satiate the burn of everything and nothing, a name is applied and it all makes sense...

Alone.