It is.

It is above me. Beneath me. At the edges of my fingertips. At the center of my being. It has become who I am. Who I am. Who am I ? Heart beats. Faster. Long sighs. Short breaths. It consumes me. Me. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Outcast. Silent cries. Lonely. So lonely. Who turned out the light ? It’s dark here. Cold. Like always. Deep pit. Big rut. Weak. He tells me I’m weak. But I love him. I love the way he never leaves me. When everyone else fades away, he calls me. Fills me with insecurity. Fills me with hate. At least it’s something. Something over nothing. I’d choose it a thousand times. Him. I’d choose him a thousand times. No. Yes. This isn’t what I want; but look how bad you need it. I don’t; you do. You’re nothing without me; I’m nothing with him. Sinking. I can’t stop sinking. When did this pit get deeper ? Tired. So tired. Yet sleep never seems to help. Exhausted from the core of my being. Of who I am. Who I am. Who am I ? Who turned out the light ? I have to get out. How do I get out ? You’ll never get out. Throw bloody fists against the pit. Climb. Wait; is that light ? Not so fast. Hands on my wrist, knuckles against my face. Vulnerable. Afraid. Two hundred and twenty pounds. He pushes me to the ground. Oh stop. It happens. Get over yourself. He’s right. Broken. Bruised. He whispers in my ear. Another sleepless night. Four. Five. Six ? I’ve lost count. He teaches me to paint the most beautiful masterpieces on my wrists. My wrists. Mine. What is mine ? Kill time. Destroy it. Worship at the porcelain throne. Take the pills. Hold your breath. Tie the knot. Make the step. It’s time to go; but I want to stay. Why do I want to stay ? Silent cries. Louder. When did I become so loud ? Can anybody hear me ? I don’t want to be alone !…alone….alone. Echoes. More echoes. Mud drips down the walls. Down my spine. Like the nerves I wish I had. I wish I felt. How do you feel ? Empty. From the center of my being. Of who I am. Who I am. Who am I ? Inaudible prayers. Violent weeping. Jesus. What’s that ? Did you hear it ? Nothing. It’s nothing. His hands cover my ears. But I hear it. I hear it. Delusional. I’m not. You are. My child. Yes, that; I hear it ! You don’t ! Take my hand. Your hand ? Whose hand ? My hand ! Not yours ! Anyone…he presses harder against my ears. Don’t listen. But please. Let me hear…who calls…Shaking. I’m shaking. Why can’t I stop shaking ?…on My name….There it is. No. Yes…will…I want to be free…be…You can’t; don’t go…saved ! How can it be ? It can’t be; it can’t be. Dirty. Worthless. No one wants damaged goods. He’s right. My child. He’s wrong…anyone…But it’s been so long…who calls…What is love?…on My name…Jesus…will…there it is…be…the light…saved ! That sweet sound. That bright light. I can feel it. Above me. Beneath me. At the edges of my fingertips. At the center of my being. It has become who I am. Who I am. Who am I ? I am forgiven. Loved. Carried at my weakest. Bought at a price that wasn’t so cheap. More than what the enemy whispers. More than how depression feels. Who am I ? I am free.

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