To wake up one day and find oneself alone in hell is the most disturbing, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, soul shattering feeling I’ve ever claimed to know. My body physically trembled in fear, my mind refused to grant rest, I grew weakened with every waking moment until every muscle, every emotion, every limb in my body limped to that rope and collapsed, not even able to hold on for a last moment. And as I fell… in His loving mercy, Jesus stretched out his arms to catch the beauty He created. I cried out in humility, His embrace carried me to help that night. A dim light was cast upon the narrow path I needed to walk. I saw an angel at the entrance with his hand held out. I took a step forward and grasped tightly as understanding and strength trickled into my bones. Further down the path, I saw another angel with an outstretched arm. I reached for it. My mind began to swirl, I could not see and everything went cold. I awoke, soaked in sweat, alone, laying in the depths of darkness. Where was I? How did this happen? My mind was too naive of the enemy’s disguise. No! No! No! I don’t want to be here. The taunts began again. They called out from the grave I buried. They refused to let rest come upon my soul as I quivered in pride that I could be here, yet again. The hatred was intensified this time. A depression suppressed even the slight weakness left in me. My mind gave up. My heart was artificially alive on bed rest, my body just a decaying flesh. My soul slowly immersed in a pool of voices that created a heaviness which weighed down my spirit, paralyzing every part left of me… as fear of drowning set in. Submerged in evil, there was a last gasp of breath left before the end… my quivering lips made a desperate howl for help; an authentic heaving heard around the globe. My lungs deflated in grief as the sorrow to weep was bereft of life. The body had finally broken, the scraps washed away. The air went silent.