Determined.

Look after me, I dwell in the night
In the dark of the shadows, I feel no fright
But do not be confused, I am a creature of light
Many years ago, I forgot what was right
But do not pity me, I try with all my might
To climb and face the most wuthering height
Despite my heart being wound so tight
I will try my best, for it is my plight
To gather up the courage and use the sight
To face my demons, to fight, fight, fight
To stop acting like a creature of night
Yes, in the light of day, I will feel no fright
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Haunted.

The moment when I close my eyes and fall onto my bed, letting out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for the entire day. When I feel the actual physical pain in my ribs, letting go hurting more than holding it in my lungs.

Letting every inkling of a thought I’ve had during the day come crashing down on me with full force. Feeling the callous winds whip at my skin, beating me mercilessly. Feeling my fingers twitch, trying to channel the pain.

Blasphemy.

Feeling my brain being tortured by black, malicious things. Breaths becoming more shallow, cold sweat breaking out, thrashing around in bed as the darkness tries to encompass me. I desperately try to find something good, to distract myself. Attempts in futility. The shadows engulf me and drag me deeper and deeper. I claw at the hint of light, a mere dot in the great nothingness. Eventually, I grow tired. Exhausted.

I give up.

Fists unclench. My body, having been so tense, goes completely limp. I succumb to the darkness. I feel a million dark figures going through my head at once, crashing into each other. I let it take over completely, taking the hits in silence. No use in fighting it. I just suffer, feeling the tears stream down my face. The dark figures, creating chaos inside me, roam freely, seemingly without a goal. Eventually, I feel it.

A change.

The crashes don’t come with with the same speed. With the same force. With the same frequency. The storm is calming. As I feel the figures going up in smoke, one by one, I start to feel the hint of hope. One or two white figures enter my mind. Soaring. Elegantly twirling around, trying to mend the damaged battlefield. At the sight of the white figures, the shadows cower, getting smaller and smaller, until they disappear completely. The white figures leave traces of light, clearing the polluted air. Once filled with sulfur and smog, it is now completely clear. Luminescent.

As I feel the peace fill me, I flutter my eyes open. Through the curtains of my window, I see a sliver of sun light. I listen closely, and hear the faint chirping of birds. I realize that I’ve made it through another fight. And even though I know it won’t be long until the black demons come back, an army of shadows that’s bigger and stronger, knocking at my mental door. When will my white force of hope give up?

Nevermore.