Up and Down

Just when I think I am up I get knocked back down...something so familiar I don't know why it can feel so foreign, invade the brain, the soul...let it go.  I look around grasping for that normal crutch but that crutch burns...burns the inside of my arm until it is raw, burns by hands until they bleed, burns.  Without the crutch I'm forced to stand but standing alone and is it new or is it old?  I try to find solace in the little things, I mean, the real little things with little feet skipping across the floor, whimsical voices, soft hair and the innocence that I yearn for.  However, alone those little things are much more than little things, little moments of nice things, but little moments of horror and terror.  Reminders of what is and was and will be.  Those thoughts build me up again, standing alone, but not really standing with those little things scurrying about my feet.  Then...the message comes, not wrapped in in wax stamped envelope that hides the mind behind the name, but real, alive.  The message feels good, reminds me that standing alone but not really with those little things asking, loving, and needing, presents with it a new day..a new way.  And with it I sleep...oh so elusive.  I sleep.