Her BrainStorm

Life after my tumor surgery was, to put it mildly, unbearable. I am a victim trapped in my own head with no visible EXIT signs. A prisoner quarantined from reality. I was no longer trapped in a military hospital; but now spurned in a translucent bullet proof coffin and buried eight feet under. Darkness surrounds me. Baffled sounds… I could gauge life happening all around; yet no one could see me. Always the observer from afar, and never a participant. An oxymoronic sense of reality… senses so vivid yet so faint. A translucent intersection of reality and absolute delusion far too beyond for me to scale. Colossal waves of doubt and insecurity crash over me, thrusting me down into an undertow of unrelenting confusion. I seek God; yet His silence is deafening. I want death, and am livid at the God Who kept me alive.