Interzone

there have been so many words in my head but they mean nothing.

just insecure whisperings of what we all feel.

the demons inside telling us all that we are not good enough, we will never be good enough.

Good enough for what?

Each individual story, each person that feels the darkness creeping up their brain has an individual battle to fight.

And it feels so lonely too, up there, slicing down each demon, watching the blood gurgle from their mouths, only to see twenty more emerging from the shadows.

I think we’ll always be fighting these creatures.

but sometimes I forget, that as long as I am fighting, I am winning.