Thread

I tap on the computer and the world drifts by around me.

I sit on outside of the cafeteria and observe, 

unsure of how to approach.

People are strange, unpredictable,

I have learned to dread the unspoken rules and the looks that come from crossing them.

So I withdraw...

I sink into myself and darkness comes.

It is a pleasant oblivion, my forward motion stops.

It seeps into me like alcohol through the skin,

Then it touches my soul...

I feel the wrongness, I want to return to the light.

But I can't.

I realize the comfort I have been accepting is a snare.

I want to cry out for help my the sludge of my own fears blocks my throat,

and I still crave the pleasant destruction of pain that comes with that void.

I am sinking...

I struggle but I am only causing myself to be drawn farther in.

I whisper one last desperate plea:

"Help!"

Suddenly I feel something warm touch my hand.

It is a thread, 

It's glow is faint, but hear in the darkness it is blinding as the sun.

I grab it and hold on with all the feeble strength I have left.

It draws me upward.

The darkness does not want to let me go so easily.

It whispers into my ears,

"They'll hate you. 

You're worthless.

You've messed up.

You belong here."

I almost give in, but the warmth of the tread gives me the strength to hold on.

Suddenly I'm out of that place.

I collapse onto the ground and rain falls softly onto my face.

Washing my dirt and tears away.

My wounds are cleanse and healed. (Though I know that the scars will remain.)

Now my tears are tears of thankfulness and joy.

I whisper,

"Thank you Jesus."