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5:40 in the morning, the breeze from the ocean caresses my face from my spot in the window. Witching hour has past and the only thing that haunts me are the thoughts in my head. They swirl before my eyes like this sort of, perpetual smoke. Smoke so thick I'm lost, so strong I'm blind, so vile I can't even seem to breath. Slowly killing me with every breath I take but never enough to finish me off. Damn you strength, your existence and the small yet faint desire to live that fights back after all this time and tortures me with the thought of the next morning. Existing is a terrifying thought when you are so terribly done doing so. Not even God's great beauty can return the excitement I had those long Boquete nights with anticipation to start a new day, to become a better me. The smell of the ocean slips through my window as i inhale. A smell I once loved when moved into this house that is now haunted with memories.

Today my mind plays with the different ways I can throw this god, awful bottle of liquid venom at the wall after I take my next swig, one that warms my now clogged throat.

My mind blurs once again as I return to my place in bed.

" Whats wrong dear?" Says a voice next to me as the hand belonging to the voice glides the tip of it's fingers across my red flushed cheeks. It's almost as if I can hear the sizzling sound from his cool touch on my boiling angry skin. "Gorgeous child" he says as the voice suddenly has lips ready to cool me down. Small little kisses down my neck blur me even more as I begin to go under . Oh precious sleep please stop with the demos and give me the perpetual, forever version for I know the the fee I must pay.
...

Golden brown sun rays as warm as fresh cookies from an oven interrupt yet another hopeless desire to not wake up. A horrendous headache cause the worst intensity ever as the most golden of colors shine through my wooden window frame. If I didn't want to die I'd tell you how beautiful it looks.
The smell of food fills my room and I, a half sleeping zombie follow it. And so I begin to count my blessings.
-"At least I have food" I say to myself, "blessing number one". A small game I play to make days a bit more bearable.
Red crunchy pieces of bacon dance along a hot and happy pan. My blue eyed knight pours me a cup of coffee, so many smells, so many noises, so many little things I enjoy about this wretched life. -
"Blessing number two, The smell of coffee in the morning.".

-"I'll miss that when I die tonight" I say to Clayton as I take my place at the table. A small old wooden table I got from my grandparents. The chair squeaks as I sit. -"I doubt Satan makes a cup of Joe as delicious as yours".

Clayton smiles as he slowly glides my black Porcelain mug on the old, worn out table. "Still living out and impossible dream I see. Actually, I made a pact with that guy so I could make the coffee you like. Maybe that way you'll want to stay with me.", he smiles at me, a crooked smile. But his worried eyes scan my face.
Clayton's desires for me to keep living were as cute as a new born baby and almost as innocent.

-"Today is the day C! I can feel it" , i say as i tip back in my char. Words recited that were part of a routine that's been going for months now. Desire fills my soul as I sip my coffee and eat my crunchy bacon strips.
-"Oh Lizzy, can't you just stay with me one more night?"
-"No." ,I reply although I break my promise every time I fail to swim far enough into the depths of darkness' pool.