Breathe.

It doesn't matter that I'm going through it all over again, alone. Doesn't matter that instead of waking up to hell in my sleep, this time I get to do that without even closing an eye. What bothers me is whether this means I don't trust Him enough.

I write about crying. About not being able to breathe. But fiction and reality, as it turns out, is miles apart. It doesn't feel like the air in your lungs are insufficient, your chest doesn't hurt. To the contrary, your head hurts. Your pulse beats rhythmically almost at the surface of your temples. You try to take deep breaths but it's your lungs that reject it. You take it in and you're forced to spit it back out the very next instant.Your lips tremble, uncontrollably and all you taste is the salt of tears. Tears that trace your face, leaving inconspicuous tracks.

Fear. Fear God and you will have nothing else to fear. Help me believe that..