Should we be afraid of some kind of eternal hell? Is it not a worse punishment to be left to suffer with your own fragile mortality? Especially if you are alone, if you are sick, if you are already being tormented, already in pain. Isn't that already a living hell?
Daily pain. Daily torment. Daily solitude. Is that not hell?
I sometimes feel as though I am trapped in the hell of my body. Trapped with a sickness that only tears me apart, brings me down farther into the depths of darkness. Every time I feel I've brought myself back up, every time I feel as though I've come through another hurtle, it grabs me by the ankles while I'm watching my back for other things hiding in the dark and drags me kicking and screaming and biting and clawing. It drags me deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. Farther from the light, farther from those who are screaming out my name trying to save me, farther from the goodness and love and compassion and warmth that is in me. I struggle, fight against it. Sometimes breaking loose. Until it grabs me again, digging into the meat of my skin as its grip gets stronger, gets tighter, squeezes harder.
Do you know what it looks like? What it smells like? What it feels like? The claws are long and black, sharp and shiny like the corners of an obsidian blade. Beautiful and deadly. Ragged and smooth. It's claws are attached to long black fingers. Thin and arched for attack. Its skin shines off the distant light, smooth and hairless. A black so dark that hints of blue and purple shimmer as it moves to take me. Almost as if beauty lies within the dark shades of its skin......
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