Don't Read This Post

It's really hard sometimes to write down what I'm feeling.

Actually, no. It's not.

What is hard is writing it here, where pretty much anyone could read it. Granted, it's part of why I started a blog, but every time I sit down and type something up, I end up saving it as a draft and never posting.

That's not to say I don't talk about it. I tell a little bit to Arika, more to my parents, some to my sister...

But I always save the last little bit to myself.

It reminds me of what Wormtongue says to Eowyn in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: "Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness, in bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, like a hutch to trammel some wild thing in."

I cannot begin to tell you how much I relate to that.

What I do know is that there is One who knows everything I've spoken to the darkness. And it's not just dark of night - there is a completely different darkness of the mind, always lurking, waiting to consume.

I wish I could say it has been a while since I've felt it creeping around the edges. I wish I could say that I'm strong enough to resist even when my walls aren't up.

I wish being vulnerable didn't terrify me so much.