The blessing/curse of hope/fear

You're traPped in a box and it's dark and stuffy, things are beating on the walls, bad things. Your know you can get out but it's more terrfifying without the walls of of delusion softening the blows. This fear, the pain, the worry, it's all swirling up in your head and if it builds it'll kill you, but if it leaves, there's nothing left in you to keep everything else out. There's crying and a draining inside, pulling everything out but the fear, the worry. Things go faster and spin out of control, not that there was any to begin with. Everything starts closing in and when even though you've been shouting for help, none has arrived, you think you've done everything, you think there's no more. Then. It dies, in a way, you die along with it. There's no relief, there's just an emptiness where everything is washed away, there is no ease, nothing has changed but you, and everything outside the box. It's not until you step outside the box that you feel the warmth of the sun again. Smell the renewal of the ground. You see the trails the bad things left behind and know the safety you've been afforded. You may be angry, you may be happy, you may be grateful or concerned. That doesn't change what happened. Only what happens next. You run/pray. Because nothing that dies stays dead forever.