Putting pen to paper doesn’t seem like something I do, but I have before, I read what I’ve wrote and wonder why I still don’t know what to do. I look at what I’ve written expecting to see a clue, but I’m still lost, no ideas, I’ve found a toolbox – do I have anything new for you? Should I write down my thoughts, or what it is I do. I talk about a battel and a fight, but the one I’m fighting is you. Who else would read these scribbles, who else even cares?
Lots of people tell me I do well, do I believe them, is it true? I may go inside my head tonight, see what secrets I can find. Do I search for you secrets, or do you hunt me with bad memories and hurtful words. You make me despire and angry and shake and cry and do things I wouldn’t do. This can’t be me, so must be you, are we really two? Two of us then we must be, for you are dark and weak. That can’t be me because I am stronger, I’ve been here longer and I really can’t be you. So what then do I call you, my dark battle, my other, my illness.

My illness, yes because you make me sick and cause me to suffer. You make my head hurt, my ears ring, leave my body to feel battered, dizzy and sick and all the other things you do to attack me. You stay with me, an unwelcomed guest, you crave all my attention, yet you never want what’s best for me. You say I can’t move or I can’t stop, tell me not to get dressed or go to the shop. Don’t eat or cook, just panic my dear because your completely worthless. There really is no hope for you, you can call a doctor but they won’t know how to help you. Nothing has helped you in the past your memories still haunt you, not gone away or weakend at all, still with you now as always. You can fight me all you like, you’ll be the one who ends up exhausted.

Exhausted yes this is true, the me who is me agrees with you. I am exhausted, but I am not worthless infact I’m kind of special, growing through these bad memories and my main weapon is the present. The present is what I do, it’s what I think and hears what I think of you. I have battled long and battled hard, I want a life that’s mine. Bad memories may come and my mind can go with them, because with a few new tricks I feel that I can beat them.

Will this be possible, will it take long my worries mind protests, it doesn’t matter I tell my brain because I’m here in the present. Every breath is in the past, I’m living in the moment, day to day I will fight on untill you are no longer. I’m moving on and forward is forward, no matter where you hide. So tell me now my dark thing shall we meet half way? I promise you, this is me and while you linger to pick you moment, you may just find me right behind you, sneaking up unnoticed.
-Anonymous