It is 3:30 a.m. and I find myself sitting here writing again. My heart afraid of the night and the darkness just beyond the glass window. The music playing low and I could not tell you one song that has played in the last several hours. Words going around in my head but yet I cannot bring them down to the paper that I am writing across.

The depth of what I am feeling could never be seen in these words--it is only a glimpse of what is really going on. Sometimes I think I will write what goes really deep only to skim once again the surface of what is playing inside. At times I want to scream as frustration takes over. Fear takes on a new face as I reach out to step one step beyond the confines of my mind. But I am suddenly snapped back into a reality that warns me to snap back.

Sometimes I start to say what goes so deep, then I shut back down as quickly. The lies and deceit of depression seep in all around and I fear no one would care--that what I have to say is not worth anything--that I am not worth anything or anyone's thoughts. The black clouds roll in and I feel like I am suffocating once again. My head hurts so bad but it is not a pain I can stop with tylenol or medication. It is the voices within crying to be heard, begging me to let go and allow them a voice. But I cannot.

So I say I am fine and try to change the conversation, all along knowing what will help to release what is inside. But a secrets a secret. No matter what, you always keep the secrets. So the lies continue to mount up withiin and each time there is another notch to reach beyond. Finally, the voices become so loud that I find myself laying on my bed holding my head and rocking. But they continue to grow ever closer. I cannot push them back anymore but I cannot allow them to be released.

Sometimes it seems time stops, stands still before my eyes. It is these times that make it hard for me to keep going. I cannot feel anyone around me except those that come in my mind. The world around me ceases to be, we become less than human. Doors become thick and heavy--with red cracks around them.

Breathing takes on a life of its own at times gasping for an air that seems to be disappearing a little more with every inhale. The air becomes contaminated with smells that suffocate and sounds that pearce into ones mind--that life hurling cry that never leaves. And the room seems to thicken with a fog that dries the throat and burns the eyes that hold an emptiness one cannot describe.

Tears do not survive there as heat rising drys any hint of existance. As the fire smolders within, the slightest breeze fans the flame, and soon it is burning out of control. The flames come out of nowhere, devourering any sense of safety one may have held, leaving such devastation within the eyes that lie uncovered. The blackness surrounding the flames within leaves one afraid to move--to even gasp for another breath as one chokes on the debree that seems to be raining everywhere.