Suddenly I can make out the sound of dripping water. It's distant but growing nearer as I move onward. I pick up my pace, grateful for a sign of change.

Then, as the darkness recedes from my approaching light, a separate, human shaped shadow is revealed to be laying slumped against the wall of the tunnel. Legs outstretched, arms limp on either side, head drooped down. It is a posture of defeat.

My steps falter and my pace slows as I near the figure. How familiar it seems. Though the being is silent, as I get closer I can feel it scream. A lilting, morose, haunting scream that sends a shiver down my back. I know that pain.

Though I'm afraid, I have this incredibly strong desire to check if the figure is still breathing.

This could be the death of me. But I'm going to do it anyway. Because that's who I am. A worrywart scared of everything, whom, when someone is in trouble, runs towards the danger instead of away.

I draw closer and dread creeps in. I know this shadow. It has been following me for so many of my days.

I thought I had lost it, yet here it is in the dark of me, looking so worn and heavy.

Standing before this particular entity I am filled with a desire to leave. However, I know the only way out is through.

This shadow is called doubt.

Deceptively harmless looking, it has led to so many unhealthy choices. I know this. I know I need to deal with it. But I don't know how. I don't even know if it can be removed.

Doubt about my artistic ability.

Doubt that I even have something valuable to share.

Doubt that I'm a good person.

Doubt that I'm worthwhile.

Doubt that I deserve kindness and good things.

I see myself through such doubtful eyes. If you try to fix your appearance by looking in a warped mirror can you ever be satisfied?

Can doubt be made useful? Is there a good reason to keep it? What is... good doubt?

Jeans torn at the knees, holes in shoes, threadbare sweatshirt with its seams threatening to break, yet none of it is more worn out than the eyes of the one wearing them. Those eyes are dark lonely tunnels. You can't see the person they belong to inside them. Rather, you are more apt to see your own darkness reflected back at you or nothing at all.

The beauty of this person on this day, the morbid perfection, in an alley all dreary and damp from rain. The sky grey, a harsh, sharp, bleak day appears to be trying to match the inner world of the one walking in it.

How many people? How many would remember ever seeing this person? Have you ever passed someone on the sidewalk and wondered if they were walking a fine line between life and death? That one word or action from you could push them over the edge?

Have you been that person walking that fine line with no set direction, looking for life to decide if this is the end or not? Because as low as you are, as ready as you think you are to give up, as much as you think your hope has been burned to ash... a corner of it remains.

Yes you see how bleak things are, and you've been pushed around--beat up by life. But part of you wonders if maybe, just maybe there is life beyond the pain. That just around the corner there is good news. In this situation, doubt can be the difference between life and death. It all depends on what side you place it on.

Doubt that things are hopeless. Doubt that you are destined for nothing but pain. Doubt that it will always be this bad. DOUBT. Good doubt can be used.

"Time passes, everything passes. While it lasts you become stronger." These things are easy to say but hard to hear when you are struggling. Saying, "Hold on, don't give up" is so easy when it's someone else's hands that are doing the holding. So easy, when you aren't feeling the pain, the fatigue of holding on.

As for me, I have a stubborn streak. I decided that I won't let go on my own, someone would have to pry my fingers loose. I will hold on, not because I think it will "get better" or that it will "make me stronger" but because I will not give a cruel world what it asked for. If it asks me to give up, I won't.

I'm not afraid of death. I welcome it actually. But I don't owe anyone or anything the shortening of my life.

Well, that is how I used to feel about it. This way of thinking served me for a time. But things changed. I would die for someone else, but I would live for them too. There is a reason I was born, people and circumstances I am meant to encounter. I have a job to do and I will live until that job is done.

I pick up the shadow called doubt, attaching it to my back and continue forward towards the sound of dripping water.

Sometimes I still consider taking my own life. There are moments where it feels like all I am is sorrow. Sorrow can be deadly and contagious like a virus.

However as I have grown older I realized that my sorrow is livable. I have become more accustomed to times of deep sorrow. Rather than focus on the feeling itself, I examine myself to find the cause (usually something I've been avoiding acknowledging). I let myself feel the emotion for a bit, then I begin to speak truth to myself.

My feet become wet and I realize I have reached the water. It's so dark I can't really see anything beyond its surface. But at the edge are barely visible skeleton flowers.

It reminds me of a song I play to help myself when I am struggling with a very bad period of depression. It's a sad song but to me there is hope in it, or rather doubt that this sadness will never recede.

https://youtu.be/UDYbFOw4FGc

Diphylleia Grayi (Skeleton Flower) by  Kim Jonghyun

"You are a flower that turns transparent in the rain

Regret is drenching the white petals between us

It may be transparent, but it's still there

At least it doesn't hurt when it's invisible

But I didn't know that the pain of letting go knowingly

Would kill me and tear me apart like this

Now that it's drenched in tears

My plain fault has become invisible

Ah the wind scatters it

Ah the dew dampens it

Dear flower in front of me

With that deep scent that bewitched me

You lock me up in the room of eternity, so that I

Cannot find you, and simply smile your white artful smile

Ah the wind scatters it

Ah the dew dampens it

With time, even the white petals will wither

Without remembering that they were once transparent

Ah the sadness scatters it

Ah the tears drench it

Time passes

Time passes

Time passes

Time passes

Time passes

Time passes"

When I listen to the singer repeat that "Time passes", I feel the wave of sorrow pass.

Here I stand, carrying doubt, having reached sorrow's shore and at the moment I can see no end to its still waters. Do I dive in?