Birch and pine burn. The fire absorbs my gaze, but not the pain. For two months I struggled to maintain emotional balance while my fists struck this hated face. Sleep, so fleeting, confused the days, when reason could no longer constrain paranoia, and friends became threatening, calculating, with hidden agendas. Eventually, I decide to take a chance and trust the one who promised they would be there for me, who could ease the suffering and stop the fists that bludgeon, or close eyes that desire sleep. Why do this on the eve of my starting STEPPS therapy?