Most days I’m okay, most days I can breath. Some days though I’m falling. Into a pit of darkness where I can’t find help. I must help myself and some days I’m strong, other days I’m helpless. Some days I can ask for help, others I’m too anxious to look at another face. The only true thing that is constant is knowing that there is an end. An end to this hell we live and there we will find peace in no longer being us. Where we will be everything and nothing. Where I does not exist. There, I will be complete with you.