I am suffering from a crisis.

Time and space are my enemies. I am distant to everything I love and hold dear. I find that the holidays don’t bring me closer to a sense of feeling loved but keep me furthest from what I love most.

The distance seems so much greater when it keeps you from those you love. It seems thousands of miles more then it actually is. In reality, I’m not as far as I could be but in my mind, it seems like I’m on a whole different continent.

I can reach out as far as I like but the black doesn’t reveal a hand. It only swallows mine as it closes around it. Nothingness seems endless when you’re spiraling slowly into a bleak place. The quiet and dark seem to spread out around you, sucking away all life and light.

I smile, I get through the day but deep down inside me is a dark place that screams to be snuffed out, suffocated and smothered.

I hate that place. It seems fingers of it invade me, every aspect of who and what I am. I can hold it at bay for so long then it gains strength, recoils and lunges with a vengance.

My suffering is silent, few knowing it exists or seeing the affects. I retreat and hide in my books, movies and stitching. Even those things don’t always bring me to a quiet place but only mask the internal war while the emotions churn and wrestle to surface.

To win the battle would be nice, but I’d like the war to end.