Each morning the sun comes up or at least it gets light out. It does not ask me nor does it see how I am feeling before it happens. It just does. And though the night is scary as hell, I find the light of day scary also.

The night hides me--the ugliness, the truth that my eyes give away in the light. The darkness keeps me alert where the day finds me vulnerable. The days are long, empty, and mark another beginning to what I hold inside.

Pain is deep--unspoken, and stays inside my heart, hiding so the light does not expose the blackness--the ugly truth. In the midst of the voices-- there dreams burn away feeling the threats so real.

Fear lies everywhere whether day or night. For the fear holds no respect of time--it just is. Some say get a grip, let it go--we ask how? So you ask and wonder how to get out of this place, and where the hell are you anyway?

Somehow, maybe something will make sense and a door or a window will crack open, just enough to let in some air--just enough to breath so you know you are alive. But once again, it is a gasp for that breath of air--that one sense that you will not die before that air comes, even for a moment--the moment you take it in--you get that one life sustaining breath--and you try to hold on to that feeling as long as you can because you are not sure it will come back again.

And it is that moment--that one moment--you begin to find the glimmer of hope before it just as quickly disappears out of sight--just back out of one's grasp almost as though it never came. And you wonder where did it go and how could it go away so quickly.

Sometimes it seems one moment you can be laughing and feeling and the next looking for that one escape, that one way to stop the pain for even a moment. My tears will not come as they sit just beneath the surface. What if one could release what is just beneath the surface, would it have any affect?

This feeling you are dying from the depression is so real. I sometimes wonder if someone could just see inside and see that what I want and what is taking place is two different things. Would anyone be able to see?

Is there a key somewhere lost within that would unlock what is held so deep inside? Is that door somewhere lying within that has never been accessed? Time keeps going--life rages on within each day and fear builds where it cannot be seen.

I sit silently screaming what no one can hear--the deafening scream no one wants to hear. Where must it be--what have we done? Pain engulfing the very core and fear holding me yet hiding so no one knows--no one can see.

Somewhere there is me and all the others. For so long we played the part by day. The fear held one captive to the truth--so much that you wonder if you really even exist--if there really is a you and if there is, are you really alive? Do you really have feelings, emotions,thoughts of your own? Or are you just a robot or a puppet whose strings are pulled only when you are being who you are created to be?

Does anyone really know within lies what is true and hidden from the world. But, with the day, night always comes. You become alive within yourself as the setting sun gives way to one’s truth. That while the world lies sleeping—you are alone with we’s and words begin to be as alive as what you are.

No one hears the cries and pleas of the others. Please, do not put me in a room and shut me out, says those within. The dim lit room comes alive—the walls breath the fear held within that there are others no one wants to know exists.

Words at times too faint to be heard, others too painful to be heard—and somewhere amidst it all, I exist, crying for someone to know—to hear. At times so loud, the very thought of “can someone hear” scares you so much so but the desire for someone to know keeps you from shutting down, hoping in your very heart someone knows.

At times, the night is long and scary—threats of the day linger as the hours tick on. You fight within yourself to keep some kind of order but how do you really know? One minute you have a thought come, but within seconds that thought is invaded with thoughts of many.

Sometimes so many thoughts that a completion never comes. Thoughts very deep, very dark, yet others that seem to ask the same over and over—do you hear us—we are here.

The night goes on entering yet another phase—a much deeper place where no one has been or seen. Eyes here tell what words cannot or will not dare to write. Reality appears when no one can hurt or threaten you. Walls and floors move and grasping a breath takes on a new meaning—a meaning of where the original breath stopped existing.

Here, the question of fear does not exist for it is seen and its presence is ever revealed. There is a question of is this real for those here are only what they are—no wall hides this—there is no understanding of denile and hiding—for those here just are, small, raw, holding a truth that time itself has etched upon each one.

It is here that if you dare to listen—you can hear the faintest cries of those that cannot even be, the screams of those never heard, the voices of those without words. Time has no concept here only through eyes that look at you and right through you like you do not even exist.

Here lies everyone—concrete, where the breath stopped, and one is still waiting to exhale. Then comes the next phase—a place where everyone must begin to push back everything inside. The wall must find a way to go back up and everyone go back into the lie.

Just beyond the window, the slightest hint of a new day begins to open itself. The seconds tick away and it does not care if you are ready. A whole new day begins to open itself. The seconds tick away and it does not care if you are ready. A whole new alertness takes place—no one knows what unfolded and eyes darken once again so no one can see.

A deathly sense of quietness descends and any emotions become absent. The others become denighed and looking into one’s eyes does not happen. And so another day comes—away from one’s self—away from who you are—night gone.

And though the night one fears—it is also the place where one fears—it is also the place one can exist. And although darkness has always been the place of horror—it is also the place where truth lies and everyone resides.

No, everyday the sun rises or it gets light out and it does not ask me nor does it see how I am feeling—but, neither does the night-it just is, and somewhere, somehow we just exist, me and everyone within.

Camilionwords1truth