I so wish I could say I felt better. Seems days are so short as the nights feel so long, and my thoughts feel far away, though I try to connect, I feel I am drifting often in a place no one else can exist. And I feel scared here. Alone. Very sad. It feels right now words are all I have to let anyone know where I am, and those at best often feel far away too. But there are times they do come, and I feel so thankful for those times, and I fear when it feels those seem to exist only as thoughts that never make it to the light of day.

So please bear with me, for I am writing today as I feel I am drifting, somewhere within all these thoughts hitting me right now. I just need to get them out.

I used to write all the time, others within wrote also, but that was when that was all we could dare to do was write and hide our words away in the light of day. Even then, that was so scary as many times they were found, used against us, and destroyed or taken away. How can someone use your own words against you, words never said to anyone, words that had a real meaning--a line to the life they spelled out that was yours. Words hidden and afraid of even being seen or known they were written.

Secrets, unknown to anyone, but a life line to the very breath you were holding onto every day. A breath you often wanted so much to stop breathing, that made you feel you had stopped breathing many times, taken by a part you didn't even know existed just to keep you alive. But why? Why did that breath get taken? Why was it so important when all you really wanted was for it all to stop?

Often times gasping breaths that hurt to even be breathed, hidden between frames where no one even knew you were alive at all. Would it have been so bad if that breath never came? Would it have meant anything to anyone if that breath had stopped then? We were but a secret anyways, at least to the world surrounding us. A secret, a dirty shameful secret. A secret of darkness within the very darkness surrounding us---our life.

I find myself crying so often when no one else is around. All of what is within asking so many questions, feeling so much that I myself have no understanding of, fearful feelings I connect to nothing but terror, running, hiding, pain, and yes even the silence those very feelings held and hold. Silence, a deathly silence that still often fills me and where glances and looks often find themselves ridiculed and often misunderstood.

Silence I am somewhere responsible for but have no way of knowing it sometimes is even present or being seen within the silence itself. And all the while trying hard to get things, to understand, to put meaning to where meaning and understanding seem to struggle to exist at all, but where it needs to be both for myself and those around me. And all the while questions, so many questions; questions there are no answers to, or at least none that can be answered but by me. But how?

Do you ever try hard to get something, at least to say you get it in hopes that saying you get it, somehow you will? Do you ever want so much to not disappoint people, people that mean so much to you, people that though at times it feels the first time all over again, somewhere there is a memory or a sliver of a memory you know them and they are safe? One within seems to know, seems to connect it somewhere, seems to remember what seems to be at times slipping through your own memory?

Do you ever try so hard to hold onto something as you feel it slipping through your fingers or this feeling that it is being pulled away somewhere into a darkness you want so much to follow somehow holding onto that sliver of hope it seems attached to but seems as though it is a fight that tires your mind and your very being of all you are?

I sometimes wonder if I am trying to follow something safe or am I being pulled away into something dangerous away from safety outside of myself? Somewhere that seems unattached floating wrecklessly within the dark recesses of one's mind and all unknown slivers that attach no where, at least not known. You wonder am I dreaming or dreaming still?

Do you ever want to know something or feel something that really you have no clue of understanding, but you are supposed to or by now you are supposed to or should? Are you ever so afraid to allow anyone to know you really don't understand and it is really not coming from you as something you really get or know, but somewhere it is pushing and the words coming from your mouth you don't know and are not your words but a pushing to make others aware you know or believe what is supposed to be known, believed to stop them and separate you further away from others?

Do you ever feel an entrapment stopping what you started to get or feel, as though you are truly a stranger to even those thoughts or feelings? Does one really know or is it because the very fear you've always known, needs to know again? Needs to not fail? Does that fear itself need to be okay for everyone, even if you really are not? Does that fear need to push everyone away by saying it knows? Or is it something else pushing everyone away to keep them at bay that you are understanding what you are not really understanding at all?

Do you ever feel like a stranger, looking back as you walk into the darkness at the end of the day once again? Not by choice, but by something else making the slivers seem far away and that you must know and are okay, even though you really are not? The tears fall in the darkness, hiding from everyone, fighting to not disappear in the darkness of the night outside.

Do you ever feel afraid of being anything but what seems to be acceptable and okay? Seems somewhere fear knows in order to stay, somehow it has to know? But why would it care, since it seems it is trying to push everyone at bay? Or does fear not want to be alone, and in order for that to happen, it does what it is supposed to do. Is that what allows fear to stay and not disappear? Is that what allows one to be here?

Is that what allows others to believe and not question? I sometimes feel I am floating within and among the slivers I am supposed to know. I am supposed to believe. I am to be what ever I need to be, a camillion of sorts. No questions asked no needed answers given..........is this where silence lives and tries so hard to still hide within the fear----the fear of all we don't understand or know?

I am trying, honestly, but I often feel a strain, a strain between fear and silence, a strain that seems to want to cancel each other out. Is this where they wanted us to get, because if fear and silence were no more we wouldn't know? Thus we wouldn't reach or even know to reach out? That there was any need to escape all we'd ever known? Is this the place where the deepest darkest fears met the silence we all knew to carry?

Where we no longer were a part of the world outside us but theirs, a secret world and life---ours. A world nothing but darkness could hold. A world most would never understand or believe. A world where understanding only came from the fear and silence we all carry, driven by those who made you know to be that way, could exist?

A fear and silence only a child, at least this child, could understand; where the mind stopped within the foundation the fear and silence built, created, and implanted before the mind ever understood anything else--life itself..............

Sometimes I feel like I am walking through life within a dream; a dream that always came, a dream we are afraid to awaken from, a dream the child always wished. And now the dream is being infiltrated by a dream, by the slivers and fragments of memories, memories we sometimes cannot seem to awaken from, memories that terrify us all, memories reminding us......if we awaken where we started from....where our dream of safety never existed..............

And the breath...do we take it or do we not......