When a man becomes void of happiness and emotion,
Is there a problem?
When a person cannot find a reason to lift their weary body out of bed,
Is there a problem?
When a man returns to a site in which he found immense pleasure and fulfillment, and now that same sacred place fills him with anger and embarrassment,
Is there a problem?
I feel as if I have hit that low point in my short existence.
The young man who walked with the swagger of a champion,
Now hangs his head low.
His only solace in waking up is knowing he will soon return to lay in his lonely bed of misery.
Nothing more than a hollow shell,
A timid giant who lost his spark for life.
The same people who admired and respected him now approach him with cautiousness.
His eyes are cold and removed of feeling
His face is blank and uninviting,
And his temper has boiled over.
The loud echo of his voice has now dimmed to a faint whisper.
He lets no one share in his pain.
His grief begins to affect the people he cares for the most.
He refuses to let anyone inside.
He is a caged animal; instead of fighting to free himself, he draws back to the center,
Fending off anyone who tries to come close to his personal house of anguish.
So the lonely one sits.
His thoughts are his only companion.
The Silence is his welcomed friend.
He sits alone trying to find an escape from madness
However, his efforts are in vain
His contemplates that he and his sanity have parted ways long ago.
But he knows the madness will never stop. It will only continue to grow.
Skylight Letter #9