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I desperately examine the wormlike masses of my brain,

probing each neuron and poking at the synapses,

hoping that I will find the defect that lurkes inside.

Like each year before,

I feel it slipping out,

feel the clawlike tentacles grabbing at my flesh,

eager to pull me back under it's dark cloak once more.

Why are you always there?

What is it you want from me?

Why can I never find the strength to push you away?

I fight day after day to keep you from regaining your control,

yet in the end of each year,

I once again surrender my soul to you,

giving in to your siren's call once more.

I despise the power you continue to have over me,

while simultaneously cherishing the security I find in your embrace.

You know exactly how I feel,

know exactly what I desire and where I can find it.

You guide my hand towards my shimmering delights,

tempting me to touch them once again.

My mind, my body, like two seperate beings,

fight for control of my existence.

I keep fighting for survival

while my mind is telling me to give up.

I forever stand on the precipice:

life or death;

light or dark;

fight or give up, give in, end it all.

My mind deceives me and tantalizes me,

creating images of the beauty, the perfection, of death.

The horrors of living cannot compare to the purity in dying.

Yet, my body keeps telling me it is all a lie.

It keeps screaming at me that I have to fight.

So I keep fighting the urges to tear through my skin;

keep fighting the whispers that lure me towards my blade.

I can never fall off the edge between the two.

Instead I linger right on that precipice;

right on that thin line;

exhausted from fighting yet frightened of giving in.