Warning: Suggested suicidal thoughts.

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There are certain things a person just simply isn't allowed to feel. Pain. Regret. Fear. Anger...Sadness.

So you go to great lengths to avoid them. You build up walls. Fifty feet tall. Made of unbreakable stone. You build them so that nothing may ever get past, so that all those negative thoughts and feelings don't get through. So they don't taint your mind with poison.

My walls are built from splendid stories. Of skillfully crafted words and well thought out schemes.

But somewhere, at the very bottom of my wall there's a crack. And through that crack is where the thoughts occasionally slip through.

It's like a swarm of wasps, surrounding my head, stinging my face. I can't see clearly, and the only thing I feel is pain.

The stories are a wonderful distraction. They can keep the wasps at bay, keep me from drifting to a replace one cannot return from, but they only last for so long. As soon as the story comes to an end, the wasps return.

And they are dragging me down to the deepest pits of hell. Yelling, demanding that my story come to an end right now.

Well...how does someone continue to fight such a thing on a near daily basis?

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A/N: Sorry it's not that good. But...whatever.