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I live alone inside my own insane asylum brain. No one else wants to live here. I do not want to live here but I cannot get out. They will not let me out. I try to escape but there is no way out.  The hell is too much. The walls are black and the hole is deep. I try to crawl out of the deep grave using my fingernails or anything I can find to claw my way out, but there is no escape from the hell and the darkness I live in and have died in.

On the way down into the lonely darkness I scream, but no one hears my screams from my pain and agony I feel. No one wants to hear, plugging their ears in hopes my screams and cries for help will just go away. No one wants to listen as it is not their life or what a normal life of any kind is like. So they choose not to listen or help me out of my prison of my dark and lonely grave that I live in. The pain is too great, the words are too painful and the screams and screeches are too awful to hear, so no one listens. They choose not to. They pretend the pain is not real and that I am not real and I will just go away somehow. It is too much for them to bear, so they all pretend I am not here on this earth as I am already dead in the dark grave they have dug for me and put me in covering me slowly day by day with dirt.

The insane asylum inside my brain is closed for anyone else to enter. No one else would want to enter my insane asylum brain as it is too scary for anyone to be able to comprehend how awful the pain and darkness must be. I am locked up in my own hell.

The black walls are actually my grave that has been slowly and meticulously dug shovel by shovel spoonful by spoonful one shovel and one spoonful at a time until the grave was too big for me to get out of and dirt then thrown on top of me again shovel by shovel spoonful by spoonful by my family and everyone around me inch by inch year after year. It is easier for them to pretend that I am dead choosing never to know I exist unless I am well and out of my own insane asylum brain. I feel like I am already dead as I am not alive.

People all around me, the millions that exist outside of the walls of my insane asylum brain that say they are friends or family have assisted in my own death by slowly throwing the dirt in the grave slowly covering me with black dirt and tar and rats and bats and anything that can cover me. Slowly I am covered.

I have tried to crawl out and claw and claw my way out time after time. I have made it sometimes only to die again and be thrown back into my insane asylum brain and grave again and again time after time inside the lonely dark black hole. The only thing left is my dirt covered tip of my fingernail still struggling to survive and hold on hoping that somehow life will come back to me and I can once again dig myself all the way out.

I cannot breathe because I am really dead. I feel like I have already died so I must be dead. The weight of the dirt and debris that has covered me weighs me down so that I cannot move. I am incapable of movement and life of any normal kind even though I try desperately to move I cannot.

I am left all alone and so lonely to live alone

inside my lonely dark insane asylum brain

all alone forever

far away and

gone.

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These are my open honest words exposing the visualizations and horrors of a severe Bipolar Disorder mind in the midst a very deep dark suicidal depression. This is my life shortly before I was hospitalized and was where I needed to be, so I could protect myself from my severe suicidal thoughts which were causing me to be very close to my demise. The hospital kept me safe and alive until I eventually came back to life.

My first hope and feeling that I was actually alive did not come back until I spoke and prayed with the Chaplain. She saved my life with the Holy Spirit speaking through her after she repeatedly said the prayer…. from Psalm 130:1-2

Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;  Lord hear my voice.

Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;  Lord hear my voice.

Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;  Lord hear my voice.

Jesus listened and answered my prayer. I felt the beautiful love and joy you can only get from Jesus and the Holy Spirit filling my heart and body during that prayer. Feeling life come back into my body again for a brief moment, reminded me of what the beautiful feeling of being alive felt like and I knew I had to live and I could live and love life again and eventually, I did.

My lonely insane asylum brain has been rearranged. I am no longer suicidal and I love life again. This is what Bipolar depression does when my  severe thoughts of suicide yell at me inside of my brain and then become rearranged into positive thoughts of joy, peace and love of life. I am once again happy to be alive. The rearranging from the two mood poles of depression to happiness can happen randomly sometimes without any purposeful thought processing of my own. My brain does have a mind of its own.

Thank you dear Lord Jesus, my Lord and Savior. Once again You saved my life from the dark depths of the grave I once lived in.