Broken, wooden shack

It's been a bit of time since we last spoke, right? It was going well, you would love to see the improvement. I have finally felt like I have a purpose. Can you imagine four years of feeling worthless and then finding purpose?

I was doing so well, but then again, I am here, and you are reading this. If you haven't figured out, I come back to this shack, this corner when something runs afoul. My hands are stuck deep in my brown trench coat. There is no rain, no wind, but I need to hide the stench that I feel seeping from my body. You sit there, by the streetlight, reading your paper. A sad smile appears on your face saying "I'm sorry you're back." You don't want me here, but you're at least happy to know I am still around. When I reach the broken wooden shack door, you watch as I hesitate. I don't want to keep returning to this place, it could be torn down, I wouldn't care!

I wasn't forced to return, I created the issue. Found the path to the shack and I took it willing. I wanted to know more, I needed to know more, I thought I needed. I can hear it, the trapped being on the other side of the broken wooden door. It cries out to me, spewing its' hatred.

"You worthless being! Slice it, end it, become the coward we all know you to be!" I don't want to go in, I was doing so well. I stumbled and it has been like a slow fog rolling into my life and I can't find a way out. I stand with my back against the broken wooden door praying that I can stop the being. It won't leave, it can't leave, it knows one day I will return.

You can't see it, you can't hear it. But you can hear me. I replay memories in my head and you hear the results. You see my body reacting to the fear that is gripping hold of me. You don't know what to say, so you watch me through glass as if I am some form of sad entertainment.

I cried out to an ear that understood. I explained that I was hurting and needed help, for goodness sakes is it so hard to reach out and see if I am okay? In case you were wondering, it seems the answer is yes. I should be used to it, I makes sure others are fine, why should I ever expect someone to do the same for me? The downside about weather changes, people get sick. I was supposed to talk to someone I trusted today. People get sick.

"Just breathe." That's what he says. "Just breathe".

I sometimes wish I did drugs, drank alcohol, did something that would numb this feeling, but I can't! I am to courageous fighting this battle. You will leave the bench, eventually, but I will continue pacing outside this shack surrounded by the creeping fog.