fighting a soul night, alone.

Sometimes, on nights like this one, soulful, humid and thick with only my thoughts-

I wonder which is better... the deep darkness in the womb of depression, alone in your own world-- freedom to explore the depths and width of pain, captive in the isolation, stuck and numb OR to be floating above it in the calm sanity which drives me nuts and reminds me constantly of eternity, unreachable joy, and contains in hopes and dreams a insurmountable void of loneliness for all that is beyond reach.

Which? Numbness in the dark or emptyness in the bounty? It's almost laughable.

I guess I have taught myself to need my dreams; their plausablity and hope. In the fact that I still believe in them--that is where I can take my courage and fight.