It's late, or early morning. For me, this is when words flow freely. A door opens to another world. I see the light, I see the darkness. There is always fear of nonacceptance, of being an outcast. Is it loneliness? It's my way, I know. It's me, even. I have often felt lonely, even when I am not alone. It never really hurts me, or so I think. But little by little, it crawls deeper into me. Though what matters is I am still standing tall, breathing softly.