My mind is not my own. I think these thoughts, I feel this pain, I speak and touch and remember, and none of it is mine. How can I go on when I'm drowning in my own being?

I know it hurts him, my friend, my brother, my Jessie. He's cared for me, protected me, tried to save me, and nothing works. Nothing can take the veil away from my thoughts, my mind, nothing can absolve me of the guilt and pain of the past. He says I shouldn't feel guilty for it, that none of it was my fault, and when I am myself, I understand that. But that is my problem ... I am not myself often enough for his words to ring true.

So much frightens, angers, upsets me, to the point where whatever thoughts in my head are clouded and painful, and I feel the balance within shift, never knowing what will come next.

Sometimes I will go one way ... hiding away in the childlike part of me that never grew up, never experienced the horrors that have made me like this. Jessie tells me she is very sweet, this little girl me, loving and trusting, without fear of strangers or any notion of pain or distance. That she plays just as any child would, the reason for the stuffed rabbit he insists I keep close in case she should emerge once more. Part of me wants to remain that child forever, away from the memories and suffering. How easy it would be to just turn away from everything that binds me to him, to become more of a burden on my only friend.

And sometimes I will go the other way ... into the darkness, embracing it, lashing out at anyone who approaches, anyone who might have the slightest wish to touch me. I remember only parts of these violent changes, when my vision is blackened and I do not know friend from foe. In that darkness, I am alone, unloved, unwanted, twisted with pain and anger and forever reliving the echoes of their abuse, their wanton disregard for my life as my own. And I sink, drowning in that hate, that all consuming fury that makes me lash out, makes me want to hurt others as I have been hurt.

And then I will come back to myself, and see what I have done, the damage I have caused in my unstable meanderings. When the child is freed, Jessie cries. I know he thinks I do not see, that if he cries in front of me I will go back into that violent side again. I would give anything to be able to help him as he has helped me. And yet, I see it in his eyes sometimes, the fear, the caution. When the darker part of me is unleashed, I have hurt him, physically. Black eyes and bleeding bites have greeted my sight when my mind clears, inflicted by me on the one person I know deep in my heart would never hurt me. I would do anything not to hurt him again, not to see that fear as he looks at me, never knowing which way I will go.

I do not have a choice. The fear that drives me pushes me one way or the other, and I cannot stop it. To protect myself, my fraying mind, I seek innocence or corruption, and both do untold damage to the one person I have cared for in years. If I could, I would end it all, to keep him safe from me, but I know that would only cause him more pain. To think that he had failed me, when his presence is the only thing that keeps even a fraction of my sanity alive.

And yet, I am suffocated by it all. By the child, with her innocence and trust, reaching out for the help she cannot have. By the darkness, in all its cruelty and distrust, fighting anything and anyone for freedom, for rescue from the cloying affection that I feel I do not deserve.

My mind is not my own. I think these thoughts, I feel this pain, I speak and touch and remember, and none of it is mine. When will the nightmare end?