Well gone

I'm gripping so tight struggling to hold on. I'm so tired, my fingers bleeding I let go. I'm slipping, sliding, scraping. Down, Into that painfully familiar place That pitiful well of my creation. My own personal darkness My own lonely hell. My own mind. The walls are cold and slick An unforgiving, unrelenting blackness envelopes everything. I'm alone. Just me, my thoughts, my fears, my demons. The air is so dense and as I fight to breath, it almost chokes me. I make no sound when I scream, only a deafening, pleading echo in my head. The rope, long since frayed, Lies damp and broken at my feet.