Blurring inside my head. Something lurks, and it will not be driven away. Tears and laughter never expressed scream for freedom, and I cannot do either. I cannot laugh, I cannot cry, and outside this mind of mine, I am invisible. My expression is my story, and my story is buried beneath the layers of cold, bare rock. You see a beautiful mountain, but this mountain you see is only a cloak, a cover for the darkness that hides below, waiting, waiting, waiting. I cry for help...nobody hears me. I try to tear down a mountain, but I am doing it all wrong. I work for the unimportant, and I neglect the urgent. I watch myself rise, and then fall, backwards, farther, never gaining. I know what is wrong with me, and yet, I refuse to give it up. I make a token effort, and fall, backwards, into the slimy pit that lets few out of its grasp. I refuse the help offered, and I reach for my downfall for assistance, and I fall again, backwards, deeper, sinking. Am I drowning?