Will you guide me now for I can't see

It has been several days since the Voice was broadcasted around this place. Many people in the city seem to think this place has been silent since then, and find the silence uncomfortable.

I can tell you, however, that this is simply not the case. I have heard voices far beyond the man from several days ago. The voices I hear are much more elusive, much more full of sorrow. They beg for a way out...

I wonder, can anybody else feel the sorrow filling this city? Or am I alone in this feeling, cursed to forever be plagued by the intense anger and dismay I've never been able to escape?

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause...

The words I heard today were strange indeed. I am not unused to hearing the words of those passed from our world in my head -- I have heard the cries of so many who have been torn from this land, their murmurs echoing in my ears, reverberating through my heart. Their sorrows are mine as well.

And yet the words I heard today did not seem to come from that realm -- a realm I suppose I find myself in, now. The cries I heard were not those longing for their lives. Instead, I heard something entirely different... a speech I worry was intended to promote fear and sorrow.

Am I "alone, friendless, afraid"? Perhaps. But is this not something I know how to deal with? My life has been nothing but an endless repeat of these same sorrows... certainly nothing I need the assistance of a disembodied voice to cope with. After all, are we not all expected to find solutions to our own problems? The world is so full of strife these days that one hardly knows where to turn. Human beings are creatures far too selfish to drop their own problems even for a moment to offer help to another.

And yet I am to believe this voice can offer solutions to my lamentations?

The mousetrap, my dear friends, is baited with the sweetest-smelling cheese. To trust is foolish. To believe is tantamount to signing one's own death certificate.

And death causes such terrible sorrow.

This is my warning to you.