Forests in my head

As I close my eyes trying to organize my thoughts, I see a picture form inside my mind. In a dark forest is where I stand, all alone. The trees surrounding me express the barriers between us; the reasons I cannot share my feelings, the thoughts of you with another person, the thought of the trouble that may occur if I ever revealed my feelings, the challenges that lie ahead, and so much more. But the trees are not so obvious in such a dim light; for you see, the darkness surrounding me is my love for you and the fear of never having you. But a faint glow of light is visible through the high branches, as the light of the moon shines through; the hope, no matter how slight, of being with you. As I struggle to find my way across the land, with every tree passed, a new perspective of the light, a new brightness, a new darkness. And yet no matter how far I run, there never seems to be an end to where I am trapped, as I cannot escape the life I am living. Sounds around me frighten me, reminding me of the life around me, whether it being the good or the bad. And yet, no matter how terrified I become, there always seems to be a hand in reach whenever I need it, a hand that has never failed to ease my fear. A best friend is all the hand could be, I remind myself, as they are the people who help us through. To me, getting to the light of day is the goal, the point to where I want to get to, as it would mean the end of the suffering, and the knowledge of love existing. But the night has been far too long, and the break of day is nowhere to be seen. It is said that when one is scared, the night seems far longer; this night has seemed to me like an eternity. And suddenly, I find an axe in my hand, so I may reduce the number of trees surrounding me. But they are too thick, and need time, patience, and determination to be cut down. I know that I must start with one tree at a time, so I try for the most reasonable; the one I may have an actual chance of cutting down. It seems so thick, so strong, and yet, with every swing, the progress begins to show ever so slightly. I find it hard to believe that any other person could be in my situation, and yet, we are all equals in this world. Possibly, the difference is the length and time of the night, and the number of trees. Opening my eyes, I realize that every word I have written seems overly dramatized, but I do not find the strength to delete a single one, as I know that they were written by my heart, and are all true.