Here I sit in the wee hours of the mornings, sipping on coffee, sicker than hell. I guess you can say I built my own little hell with my own two hands. Not something to be proud of, but all the same, here I am.

for the last two hours I have been contemplating whether or not to take the last few pills that will give me some relief from the torture chamber I live within. I have been slowly and painfully been helping the devil defeat my soul, unaware of divine intervention just up ahead.

To say that my life was a bed of roses, would be a lie bigger than one could fathom.  I have a boxing ring around my heart where scars of defeated battles lie. To say that I was an angel, you would not see my wings.

I dream't that hate and bitterness did not exist, only to wake up to terror lurking down on me.

with cruel injustices inflicted on my heart and soul, I grow bitter instead of better.  Is it just the sickness and my demise I fear?  Or is it the judgement and the cruel pointing of shame that tears at me?

As of yet, I cannot answer that, for I am still in shock.  Was I so terrible in this world, that I should die this way?

I claim to be a christian, I believe in God and the Holy Spirit. Still I doubt my soul will enter for the wrongs I have delivered. I was asked if I was to die today, would I be ready? I answered truthfully.. I don't know.

Why do I have to rush to get ready for what eternity awaits? I am terrified of falling down to the pits of hell, instead of ascending into heaven above.

I was told I have to forgive my enemies in order to enter into heaven's gates.  How can I forgive them, when I can't forgive myself?

awaiting the second chapter..