I went on a trip.

I am not home yet.

When people ask where I was I tell them I was sick.

In a way this is true, but in reality I went on a trip. I’m trying to get back now.

I entered a world that many people don’t even know exists let alone know how to get to.

This is not a trip to  wonderland;  you don’t go to the second star on the right and end up in a lagoon of mermaids.

This is hell on earth.

You fail.  You hurt. You end up in a pit of despair and pointlessness.

My trip only lasted two months,

It took years to get there;

and it will be many more before I am back.

I am trying to make my way back home.

I’ve treaded through hours of therapy,

days trapped in a mental hospital,

thousands if not millions of tears,

cuts along my skin,

a death wish,

and the constant companions of sorrow and fear I live with.

This is not a vacation.

This a trial

and my strength is on the stand.