Dark Descension II

Looking heavenward, I am reminded that it is a full moon tonight. She has graced us with her unearthly beauty, and the skies seem that much brighter. While she floats high overhead on her lunar throne, I flounder in shadow. I am in a serious fix, and I have no idea what to do. The stars seem to be laughing at me, twinkling merrily as I struggle to come to terms with the facts of my life. Screw them. The pounding in my head refuses to go away, and I find myself reaching out automatically for the bottle. I cannot express some of my pain in words, and it is this part that is so damning. I have a choice. I have a right to seek redemption. But why is it that the first step is always the hardest? I am afraid of my parents' reaction. This is a whole lot worse than the coming-out-fiasco. My whole life has always been about illusions. And now when I have been so terribly weakened by the many battles I fight, I find myself staring at the roiling mass of darkness in the mirror and wondering what the fuck I did to end up this way. Who on God's green Earth can save me from myself? What do I do come morning? What can I do? I do not wish to see the disappointment etched on everyone's faces when I come out of the closet with a whole army of skeletons. I am forcibly reminded of the last time I was incarcerated in the cesspit they call HOSPITAL. Shitty experience and all, I vowed I would never walk back through those horrible glass doors. And now look...I'm actually contemplating going back to seek help. The ironies of life. I have lived with my personal demons all my life, and the thought of letting someone else see how screwed up I am terrifies me more than all of them combined. I cannot even lift my head to seek out the tiny pinpricks of light that symbolise hope for so many of us. If truly the stars represent hope, then maybe it is an omen that they are so far away and out of reach. I am lost, more lost than I have ever been. Esther gave up on me a long time ago, and after that I was resigned to my fate. The passing years have not brought me wisdom on how to deal with myself. I am as lost as I was all those years ago. Salvation. The word escapes me on a puff of air, snatched away by the morning winds. And there goes my salvation.
I am this close to giving up, Raphael. Is there no way to heal me?