hidden

Something happened. I don't remember when. But life isn't as it should be. I'm not sure how many of us were affected - the town, the country, the whole world. Or just me. It feels like just me. But I can't go outside to check, because it's always there. Waiting. Rippling in anticipation. Always alert, always watching. Never wavering. It. The cloud. The smoke, the miasma. I don't know if it has a name. I don't know how it got here, or why it chose my town (why it chose me). I don't even remember when. I know life used to be different, but all I can remember clearly is this. I think everyone else fled before it settled and grew so strong, or else they fought their way out (I wish I knew how). I never see or hear any signs of life - though it's difficult to tell because the cloud deadens and thickens the air so it's near impossible to do more than whisper - but most of all it's the feeling, the sensation of being completely and utterly alone that convinces me. Like the prickly feeling I get when someone - or something - is watching me. Like right now. Sometimes it slips through the cracks, smooth and subtle, and I don't notice it affecting me. Sometimes it catches a break and a gust rushes in, and I panic and thrash. But in time it dissipates, and things go back to normal. Normal. I don't think I know what that word means anymore. I'm aware that the way I live would not be considered normal by others, but I don't know any other way to survive. I'm aware I'll remain stuck here, never moving forward or living a full life until I make a move, but I can't think of a plan that won't have dire consequences. I could open the door and let it in to study, analyze and discern its weaknesses. To get answers to the questions of the whys and hows. But the cloud is thick, cloying and choking. I don't think I could survive very long. And if that started to happen - if it became overwhelming and I felt it smothering me - I don't think I could force the door closed again. I could rush outside, hope to catch it by surprise and run through it to the other side before it could stop me. Run until I break free and take a full breath of fresh air for the first time in I don't know how long. But I don't know how far it stretches. It could go on for miles. I can't run that far before it catches me. It will billow around me, tightening and closing in until I fall and it wins. What I need is for someone who has already escaped and moved on to come back for me. To show me how to escape this confining, isolating hell. I know there are others who have made it out. I know I am alone here. I can't sense any presence other than the gritty, threatening smog that surrounds me. And I wait, but no one comes. Sometimes I think I can hear them calling my name, as if from across a chasm. But the voices are so faint, so indistinct and fleeting that I think I must be imagining them. And I can't shout back to see if they can hear me because this dirty, suffocating cloud has stolen my voice.
persevere / byrne [1]

These are the conclusions I've come to: if I let it in, I lose. If I go out and confront it, I lose. No one is coming back for me. I have been left behind to face this on my own. So I stay hidden, living a half-life, floating aimlessly through each day with no real purpose or sense of direction, counting on this one truth: either it will weaken over time, give up, move on and let me alone - or I will die here.

time
Life is calmer now. Over time, I stopped waiting for someone to come rescue me and decided to learn to take care of and rely only on myself. No longer anticipating anyone's arrival, I locked all the doors and windows, put up thicker, soundproof glass, bolted boards over the doorframes, and filled in and painted over all the holes or cracks in the foundation. It worked. The smoke could no longer find any gaps to slither through to reach me. I effectively blocked myself in as well, but it's cozy here. I no longer hear the faint cries calling my name, but I suspect they were never really there to begin with. Life can seem lonely this way, but I am used to it. In fact, I enjoy it. I have adapted. Occasionally, one of my barriers will wear down over time, or get knocked loose. Inevitably, I see the cloud still lingering, anxious but never impatient. Always it tries to sneak in, and always it succeeds. But I'm able to keep most of it out, and I weather the burst that slipped in until it fades away. But one day a corner of the curtain covering a larger window came loose and I saw something I had almost forgotten existed: a ray of sunshine, warm and hopeful. Captivated, I pulled the curtain back further. I saw sunlight, dazzlingly bright. I saw green grass, blue skies, yellow daisies. I saw a glimpse of the world I had been shut out from for so long. I did not see any trace, not a single wisp of the dense, heavy cloud that had isolated me for so long. Excited but wary, I took a chance and left the curtain down for a few days. Each morning upon waking I expected to see my house once again shrouded in gloom. But the cloud didn't reappear. The sun stayed strong and shining. And so after much deliberation, I decided to do something I previously thought would never again be possible. I decided to leave.

struggle
Making my plan to leave was surprisingly easy. Unboard the front door, pack a bag, and step outside. Enacting the plan, however, is simply terrifying.

persevere / byrne

[2]

It feels like a lifetime since I last crossed the threshold of this doorway. My life has been my house. Simple, solitary, and self-sustaining. Stepping back into the world at large holds the possibility of many pleasures the feeling of the sun on my face, the wind in my hair. The smell of wildflowers and the sound of rustling leaves. But it also holds so many risks. My house is safe. It's not perfect, but I know what to expect and how to survive. The risk of danger is minimal because I am in control of that environment. Out here, I have no idea what could happen. And so it is with lessening excitement and mounting apprehension that I step through the doorway. I hesitate on the stoop. I can't shake the fear that it is lurking somewhere nearby, just waiting for me to make the mistake of leaving my haven and I am loathe to go too far where I won't be able to get back inside before it reaches my now vulnerable home. But the longer I linger, the less concern I have. It's not coming. I can't see it, I can't sense it - it's gone, and the world looks warm and inviting. There are some who would say living a life of safety, comfort, and control is the best that could be hoped for. There are others who would call that boring, or lacking. Wasteful. I have been a part of the former group for years. But when I made my plan, packed my bag, and opened that door, I chose the latter. And so as I shut the door and take my first steps, I feel a smile on my face and I am confident I've made the right choice. There is so much I haven't experienced. Memories float down like snowflakes the farther I walk. I sat on these steps, I drew with chalk on this sidewalk, I kicked a ball around in this street. I climbed that tree and I hid behind that bush. I was happy here. I walk across the street to a nearby meadow and lie down in the grass. It's dry, but not scratchy. I can hear birds singing and see rabbits hiding in the brush. I close my eyes and bask in the warmth and wonder why I ever cut myself off from this. And then the air grows cold, and I feel it creeping around my heart, and I remember. It. The cloud. The smoke, the miasma. I can see it now, floating toward me against the breeze, grey and dark. Tendrils, reaching. Menacing. Panicked, I stumble to my feet and run. I'm using muscles that haven't been stretched in ages but the adrenaline pushes me and still I run, fast and hard. I chance a look over my shoulder and my heart sinks. The cloud is coming toward me, yes - but I am moving faster. It is inching and I am sprinting. Yet somehow, it's gaining on me. I don't understand, it doesn't make any sense, my mind is racing my heart is pounding and I don't think I'm remembering to breathe. In my blind panic I reach the woods at the edge of the meadow without realizing and smash straight into a tree. My thigh is throbbing and bleeding and I saw the branch sink into it but I can't tend to it now because the cloud is still advancing and so I'm still running because it's carrying death and I'm trying to live.
persevere / byrne [3]

I crash through the trees, not conscious of a path or destination, just trying to distance myself from the nightmare that is stalking me. Twigs snap under my feet and branches slice across my face and arms but I am only aware of the need to keep moving. Eventually, my legs start giving out and exhausted, my foot catches on a root and I slam to the ground. I land on my injured leg and it's only now that I realize how deep the wound is. It is far beyond the capacity I have to heal. I can barely even stand to look at it. I wouldn't know where to start. As I think about how easy it will be for the smoke to catch me now, I feel my eyes tearing up in frustration. This is all my own fucking fault. I knew how to stay safe and I threw that away like garbage. I decided to have an "adventure". I don't know what I was thinking but I am so disappointed in myself. I should have known not to try. I should have known I'd fail. The forest has slowed my pursuer but as I turn around to evaluate my situation, I see my lead is disappearing. It's rolling forward slowly like a harmless fog, winding and wrapping around branches and leaves, but I know better. I'm running out of time and if I don't do something about the gash in my leg I'm going to pass out. With that, the thought of letting it win washes over me. Let myself pass out and simply wait for the cloud to come cocoon me in its embrace. It would be so easy. Just falling asleep and letting it do what it's been trying to for so long. As tempting as that idea is, I don't think I want to give up that easily - but I feel stuck here. I bury my head in a patch of moss and scream. I don't know what to do. I don't feel like I have a choice. Wait. The moss. I rip off the sleeve from my shirt and tear out a handful of moss. It's soft and absorbent. I carefully press it into my wound and tie the sleeve tightly around it. It's not ideal, but it will do for now to staunch the bloodflow and keep it clean. I'm done just in time. I can feel a cold, thin tendril curling around my heart. Spurred by a jolt of fear, I grab my pack and bolt away. I can feel tears still falling as I run. I am so scared and I don't know what I did to deserve this. I don't know why it chose me, why it's so determined, why it would wait all these years just to torment me. I don't know what's wrong with me that made everyone leave me to fight it on my own. Did they forget about me? Was I not good enough? Was I not worth saving? Part of me wants to prove that wrong but a bigger part still wants to give in. I'm terrified because I don't know what to do and I can't outrun it forever. I can barely even outrun it now. I'm slower than I was at the start and the trees aren't holding it back enough and it's going to catch up to me and I'm going to lose. I'm going to lose and I'm going to prove I'm not worth it, was never worth it, and I should never have put myself through this pain and isolation by fighting so hard. I should have given in long ago and And then the ground gives way and I'm falling.

persevere / byrne

[4]

crushed
I don't know what happened. One minute I'm running for my life and the next the forest floor is disintegrating under my feet. I'm rocketing down an embankment of dirt and I can't seem to get a grip. Anything I can grab just crumbles into dust between my fingers and I can't get a handhold, a foothold, anything to break or even slow my fall. The trees above grow smaller and smaller and I see the cloud hovering over me. I can feel its gaze pierce my heart but it does not follow. After what feels like an eternity but was probably only moments, my fingers stop raking through the earth and I feel weightless in the air. Then I hit the water, and the impact is like landing on concrete. My body feels broken, my spirit crushed, myself defective. It hurts to realize and admit these faults but I must be damaged or I would never have been left behind to live this mess of a life. I'm sinking deeper and deeper into the water but I'm too tired and weary to fight it. The salt water stings the wound in my leg but the pain barely registers compared to everything else I'm feeling. I know it won't be long before I run out of air but I can't will my worn out limbs to move and I'm too heavy to float to the surface. It must be my pack weighing me down but I can't let it go - it has supplies I need, my food, memories of home. I reach the sea floor and sink into the sand. It's cushioning and relaxing and I just want to stay and close my eyes - but I can feel my lungs clawing for air and once again I am torn between fighting and giving in. I'm just so tired of fighting, of trying. I'm not sure what the point is anymore, or if there ever was one. I sigh and roll onto my back to gauge how far from the surface I am. It doesn't look too distant, but I can't will my body to stand and rise. However, nearby I notice a clump of vines cascading down from a shadow on the surface. I drag and then crawl the few yards to the vines as I regain some determination and grab hold. They seem sturdy enough and the hope of reaching land is all I have, so I begin pulling myself up. It's killing my bruised and battered body to climb and reach but I'm dipping into reserves of strength I didn't know I had and I keep rising. I can feel the lack of oxygen tightening in my chest, my lungs burning, my vision blurring at the edges. I push myself harder but end up moving slower. I can't last much longer. With one final push I break the surface and breathe deep. The vines had tumbled into the sea from some sprawling foliage further inland from the edge of the island I have come to. It's a little lump of land, less than half a mile across. In the distance I can see where I came from - the woods peter off to a sloping cliff edge. It juts out at the top and cuts sharply underneath before it reaches the water. I hadnt realized how close I was to the edge - I would have ended up here even if the tip hadnt collapsed under me. It looks like water, wind and time have eroded the earth and when I ran across it, it crumbled. I can't go back that way. Farther out in the water I can see another small island, not too far to swim - if only I were a better swimmer, if my pack weren't so heavy, if I had the strength to carry on. If, if, if. I laugh. Its a hollow sound. What I have to give never seems to be enough. I am never good enough. And there is nothing on this island. I can't survive here - but I can rest for a while. I'm too exhausted to think clearly and weigh my options. The
persevere / byrne [5]

cloud has disappeared for the time being and I couldn't run if I tried, so I burrow into the sand and close my eyes. I sleep through the night and wake sore but rested with the dawn. As the sun rises over a distant crest, I see a few other smaller islands spotting the water before me, but nothing else. I'll have to island hop and hope there is something else out there. I ready myself as much as I can, stand at the edge with my toes in the water, and hesitate. I'm not certain I can make it. But honestly, I don't really have a choice. So I take the plunge and immediately sink to the bottom. Frustrated, I kick off the sandy floor in the direction of the closest island. Luckily, as I get closer, I see it, too, has thick vines swaying lazily in the water. They seem near, but moving undersea with this weight on my shoulders in like trying to swim through molasses. I feel as though I'm moving in slow motion, and once again I'm getting lightheaded as the need for oxygen kicks in. I reach the vines just in time and force my body to climb. My muscles are so weak and worn. I reach the top gasping for air and fall into the sand. My limbs feel like jelly, my body is wasted. And there's still so much farther to go. As I lay in the sand trying to regain some energy, I become conscious of the pain in my leg. I cringe in anticipation as I peel back my makeshift bandage. It's sodden and barely holding on and I know I won't like what's underneath. Once unwrapped, I can see the wound is worse than I could possibly have imagined. The bandage has done nothing but cover it up and take my mind off it. It's festering, weeping - it's awful but I can't look away. I'm out of ideas. There's nothing left to do but wrap my other sleeve around it and move onto the next island, hoping I'll reach someone or something that can help. Island after island, each passes the same as the next. Fighting to the brink of exhaustion underwater, then pushing even further up each climbing, trailing plant until I can crash onto the beach at the surface. Four islands later, I can't even move anymore. It doesn't matter, though - devastatingly, the next island is one I can barely glimpse. Even in peak shape I couldn't reach it before drowning. I'm at a loss. My thigh is on fire, my muscles are screaming. I can't go back, I can't move forward. Once again, I am stuck. Frozen. Death awaiting me around every corner. I don't understand why this keeps happening to me. What is wrong with me? Days go by, and I struggle. My rations are running low and I still have no way out. Ive come to the realization that I only have one real option: to leave my bag behind and hope, just hope I can make it in time and that there is assistance to be found when I get there. Without my pack, I have no food, no water, nothing. If there isnt some kind of civilization on the next island it wont matter if I make it. Im not resourceful enough to survive on my own. But its my only chance and I dont have anything to lose.

persevere / byrne

[6]

I grit my teeth and dive in. I don't sink this time, but I don't get very far either as I'm still so weak and my will to keep fighting is draining. It also still feels like something is trying to pull me under. My energy rapidly waning, I pause for a breather. And then something really does pull me under. It. The cloud. The smoke, the miasma. It's back, looking more threatening and unnatural than ever underwater. It's undulating in anticipation, pulling me deeper and deeper, and I don't have the strength to fight anymore. I don't want it to bring me down but I can't stop it and I'm tired of struggling. It just doesn't seem worth it anymore. My vision is blurring again and I all I can think as my world fades to black is that I should have given up years ago.

hope
I wake up, and my eyes open. That alone is somewhat of a miracle. I was rescued by a diver. She said she didn't see any smoke- or fog-like being near me, she just saw me thrashing and drowning. She said my eyes were still open and alert when she reached me and that I fought against her when she tried to help, but it's funny - I don't remember any of that. We're on a submarine now. I don't like it, but it was the safest way to get me home. Sometimes, when someone would come up to me on land, I would fight again, or run, or dig into the wound on my leg. I don't remember doing any of those things, which is really alarming. The sub is confining and uncomfortable, but it leaves me with nowhere to run and people are always around so I'm getting used to them and not doing anything strange or harmful anymore. They're really nice and we spend the days talking, playing games, just passing the time. It feels good to connect with people again and open up a little about what's been going on. I'm really looking forward to getting to land again, though. The sub's close quarters are wearing on me, and I feel much safer. After we dock, we'll have to board a ship that will take me the rest of the way home. I'm anxious, but in a good way. The idea of living a completely different life is nerve-wracking, but its comforting to know that I wont have to suffer in silence or handle it alone.
persevere / byrne [7]

redux
The submarine trip only lasted a week, luckily. It was such a relief to have others around keeping me safe and sane but it often felt crowded and there wasnt much to do either aside from just sit around and talk with those who werent on duty. I felt pretty restless and I was excited to come ashore when we reached land. It was daunting, too, though - my life had changed so rapidly in the last few weeks, I no longer had any idea what to expect. As confining as my life was before I left the house, it was also safe. I knew exactly how life would go each day. No surprises, no dangers. I had everything under control. Then I took a chance and that control was ripped away from me. On the sub, my days were structured and I was once again confined. Just like before, I knew how each day would pass and there werent ever any sudden changes. I was in the control of others, but I was safe. The brief respite on land was completely different. The world was there in front of me and I didnt know what to do with it. It was a shock, initially. It wasnt easy to say goodbye to those staffing the submarine who werent coming with me onto the next leg of my journey, either. Their kindness and caring meant so much to me and it felt like Id known them longer than just a week. Only a couple were coming further with me onto the ship, but their presence would be a comfort. The overwhelming sense of freedom on land was quickly taken away when we boarded the ship the next day. It was distressing to realize that it only took one day on my own before I started falling apart again, but I tried to put that out of my mind as we left the harbor. I had more time to adjust before reaching land for good - I knew I should take advantage of that instead of dwelling on the past. And so I tried, and it worked. But only for a few days. Then I was struck with the reason why that realization was so distressing. It wasnt just that I still needed more time to adjust. It was that nothing had changed. Coming ashore and entering the real world once again, I felt the exact same fears and pain I had felt before getting rescued. Nothing changed on that sub, I was just distracted. Distracted by how low the quality of my life had been. Distracted by how the low the quality of my life would always be. Distracted by how meaningless and purposeless my existence was. Was I really only here to suffer? To make others take care of me because I am incapable of doing it myself? Why was I even still trying? That was yesterday. I woke up on the floor in the corner of the tiny closet in my quarters with blood under my nails. I dont remember tearing off my bandages and ripping into the still healing wound on my thigh, but then I wasnt fully in control of myself, so its not too surprising - I also have scratches up my arms. The dark thoughts had taken over. Theyre still there today, but theyre quieter. Louder is the answer.
Am I really only here to suffer? To make others take care of me because I am incapable of doing it myself? Why am I even still trying?

Yes. And you dont have to keep trying.

You know things would so much easier. For everyone.

Im outside on the deck now. The railing is right there.

The water will take you. It will be fast, and easy. Its whats best.
persevere / byrne [8]

Just jump.

But I can sense the soulless smirk forming those words and it isnt mine.

climb
Terrified, I run back inside. I run straight into the same person who rescued me before: the diver. She was one of the few who crossed over from the submarine to the ship with me. Im scared and shaking because I cant handle this on my own, and she can tell. She sits me down and we talk. She poses a question. Why is it a bad thing to be distracted? Its what I need. And if Im recognizing what I need, thats a good thing. Or so she says. I think that to need to be distracted from how awful things are to not want to die is a horrible way to live, but Im also aware now that not all the thoughts in my head are organic. Some are being planted by something out of my control. Some are being planted by it. Its not out of your control, Im told. I find that hard to believe. It has been controlling me for as long as I can remember. Its difficult to accept that things can be different. But I promise her Ill try. Its the least I can do. I havent done anything else, after all. Stop, she says. Give yourself credit, she says. Im here, Im asking for help. Thats miles beyond anything Ive done before, she says. And I wont need to be distracted forever. Im not sure I agree with her. But I like her version of reality better than mine. Its full of promise, and hope. Hope. Ive felt hope before. But it was fleeting. Such a difficult emotion to hold onto. I feel like its within my grasp and then it slips out and flutters away and Im left behind, dark and empty once again. But Ill try holding it closer to my chest this time. The following week goes by far more smoothly. Similar to my previous journey, the time can sometimes go by slowly and everyone aboard often gathers together to talk and pass the time. Ive come to find out that many others traveling with me have gone through or are still going through similar struggles to mine. The thought has occurred to me that this was true on the submarine as well - but I dont think I was paying as close attention then. I was so nervous and distracted. Im still nervous, but the more I let these people in, the more I discover that Im not alone. The things Ive done and the things Ive thought are not out of the
persevere / byrne [9]

ordinary or unique to me. I am not the only one who has dealt with such a monster and I am not the only one who has wanted to give up, to let it take me, to let it win. I am not the only one who has wanted to die. Some of the other passengers have defeated their beasts. They have stood up to it and won. They have wrested control of their lives, their thoughts, and their emotions back from it. They have looked within themselves and found more power and strength there than they knew existed. They found the resolve to fight, and to live. I need to do the same. Im not sure I fully believe that I can. But I have more faith in myself than Ive had for a while now and Im cradling that hope as close to my heart as I can, because I need to try.

fight
The choice to fight has always been there, but this monster has spent so long blocking choices from my view that I dont remember what its like to have them. Its made me see only one future, only one possibility for how life will turn out. And that future is nothing but pain. Is it any wonder I have resisted confronting it for so long? It has led me to believe that if I lose, I will know I am forever doomed to have it as my master, leading me where it wants, showing me unimaginable horrors. Ive spent so much time being certain that if I try and fail then I would be resigned to know that this really is my only possible future and I knew I could never live with that. Living in hell while knowing there is a chance that life might one day be better is so much safer than actually trusting in that chance and testing it. But its time. I need to stop cowering in fear and refusing to take chances on the illogical belief that life will be worse if I do. How could this possibly be any worse? I need to stop thinking it will beat me if it tries. I need to trust in myself. My survival is not dependent on this murky presence leaving me alone or on other people protecting me if it advances. I need to start accepting that I have the power to fight it, that I am strong enough to do this, that I can defeat it. The control is in my hands. I do have the strength, the will, the spirit to take it on and win. Or so Im telling myself. As confident as Ill ever be, I step out onto the deck and slowly let out the breath I was holding when I realize it isnt there. I dont know what I was expecting. I havent seen it since it tried to drown me before the rescue. Ive felt its presence and Ive heard its whisper but it has not shown itself. Still, I am alone out here and it must feel me searching for it. The thought crosses my mind that it, too, may be afraid - Ive had so many people around me, helping me, showing me things dont have to be the way they are now, the way Id been led to believe they always would be. Ive changed in the last couple weeks. The idea of my monster being fearful of losing its own control gives me a new surge of confidence, and I know the time is now. I close my eyes and intentionally let down my walls. I reach inside for the darkness thats still there and I let it wash over me. I let myself feel the sadness, the anger, the shame, the fear - all the emotions Ive been trying to block out. I hold onto the others - the confidence, the hope, the faith; the
persevere / byrne [10]

butterflies of possibility - but I keep them off to the side and focus only on the hurricane of anguish now spinning around me. I know its there before I open my eyes. It thinks my guard is down. It thinks Im alone, and it thinks Im full of nothing but sorrow and hopelessness. Its wrong. Slowly it advances toward me and billows around me, smirking, laughing menacingly, trusting that it will win, that it will only be time until I succumb to its pressures. Its full of bravado as it seeps in closer. I raise my head and stare straight at it. You have held far too much power over me for far too long, I say. I have been so intimidated by you; I thought I could never match you. You have been so imposing and overpowering; I thought I had no chance. No control. No choice. But I do. I do have a choice, and I choose to live. To live and feel hope, and joy. To shrug off the apathy you cloak me in and rise above the depths of your despair. I will not be overtaken by you. I stand. This is not a battle you can win, my friend. The smirk in its voice is gone. Its no longer laughing. You found me at a young age and you pulled me in close, I continue, my voice getting louder and stronger. You whispered your malice in my ear and you walked me down all the wrong paths. You led me into dark corners and let me trip over the roots of the horrors you were planting. You held me back when I wanted to push forward. You pushed me ahead when I needed to stay still. You took my hand and you led me toward the end, but I said no. I walk toward the cloud, inviting it to come closer. Barely perceptibly, it backs up. I let you stay with me, winding around my legs as I tried to run, slowing myself down to keep in pace with you, trusting in your choking presence. I let you rise up with a vengeance and swallow me whole. I bled for you. I wept for you. I screamed for you. I let you drag me down deeper than I knew possible, and I felt true fear. But no more. The cloud is just a mist now. Its pulling itself in tighter and thinning out all the while. Im still taking steps toward it and its still backing up. You cant have me anymore. You cant be with me anymore. You will stay back, out of the way, and let me move on. I know you will always be there, watching and waiting, but you will not come forward. You will not make a move, and you will not get close to me.
persevere / byrne [11]

You will not hold me back and you will not take me down. I will not die because of you. You will not win. I will win. You will lose. Everything.

peace
The remnants of the mist that hadnt dissipated while I was speaking are now floating away. I know it wont be gone forever. I know it will always be lurking in the background, waiting for me to slip back into its embrace. It has bounds of determination and endless patience. But I have proven that I am stronger than it, and even if I do begin to fall and it does rear its head, I can take it on again. I know this now. It can never defeat me, because I am stronger. I am more determined and I am smarter. I have the will to survive and the help of others if I need it. It has nothing but itself and its hateful malice. It will never take me back. Its hard to accept that I can never fully destroy it. That I cant fight it physically, that I can never unleash the anger I have toward it in a way that it can feel. That I cant make it feel the pain that its given me. Its hard to accept that it will always be in the background, stalking me through every phase of my life, just waiting for a crack to open for it to slither through and curl around me once again. I want it gone. But I cant deny how wonderful it feels to have confronted it and pushed it away. To have finally summoned my courage and stood up to it. Its like a pressure has been lifted from my chest and I can breathe freely once again. Im still rather hesitant to step out past the circle Ive been stuck in but knowing that I can and nothing will stop me makes me smile. Its such a lovely lightweight, carefree feeling. Its been so long since Ive smiled and meant it. For as long as I can remember my emotions have been hollow. Half-hearted. Fleeting. Ive felt so empty inside. But true feelings are beginning to come back to me, and it is the most amazing experience to feel, to truly feel once again. Others may not have to deal with a beast such as I have. Others may not have had to go through what I went through, felt what I felt, fought the battles I fought. Others may not have to always keep their guard up for fear that one day, their own personal demon will worm its way back into their life and subtly take back control, piece by piece, until one day they are standing at the rail of ship, looking over the edge, and wishing they had the courage to jump and end it once and for all. But I have, and I am all the stronger for it. It may not be something to be thankful for, but it is something to be proud of. I may not have come out of this battle unscathed but I have come out a victor, and I am glad to have this achievement. I am glad to feel pride in what I have done and what I will continue to do. I will not let my guard down and I will not give up this fight. If it gets back in then it gets back in, but I know how to defeat it now. It will be a challenge well within my capabilities to handle. I am not afraid. I am excited to live.

persevere / byrne

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