FIRST OF ALL I’M sorry that I’m making this one about myself a bit. For my past blogs, I may have connected them to past experiences, but never did I ever wish to make it about myself. I came to a realisation, and realisations I talk about a lot, but I came to the realisation that what haunts me most out of anything in the world is the memories that I’m afraid of letting go and those dark, twisted thoughts and reminders which I keep in my head. I can’t get them out of my head, I can’t speak them out loud, yet I can’t seem to let them go either.

I don’t know why I’m afraid to let them go, seeing as they’re dark and twisted and they bring the demons to life. The demons which hide in the darkness, melt into the shadows, right beside the light switch in my head which brings happiness, but drains it too. Whenever I turn on the switch, hoping for a little piece of forever, the demons in my head, the demons which don’t really exist, but are very real to me, those exact demons decide to switch it off, faster than the speed of light. That’s how fast they move and that means they cut off that happiness before it can ever reach me.

I don’t know why I’m afraid to let them go. They’re hurting me, they cause me pain, but I’m afraid that those same memories will haunt me. Those memories which in my lowest points of anguish and sorrow and simply pain, I won’t remember, they won’t make me stronger. What doesn’t kill you doesn’t make you stronger, no. It just leaves you hurt and leaves your mind dark and full of hurt and twisted and crazy, to be simple and quick.

Those demons are a part of me now, and even though I hate them, who would I be without them?

And then who am I meant to be real to? Am I ever real to anyone? To the people at school and in public, to who I smile? To my friends, who I can’t even share all my secrets to? To my sister, who I hide things from so that her life is ruined and she doesn’t believe her sister’s a freak? To my parents, who I’ve lied to countless time? To myself, who I lie to? What lies have I said? What lies have I believed? That it’ll all be okay in the end? That the tears will stop one day?

I’ve tried, endlessly and infinitely and I’ve tried to be real, but am I meant to sit there and cry and share secrets and let go of the pain and dark memories so that one more person will be burdened by what I feel? What am I meant to say when they ask me why? Am I meant to tell them that I can be myself around them? Will they ask me then, why I cry? Will I tell them the truth? Will I say that I’m not a happy person?

Will I continue being real or shall I give up? Would that even be real enough or would it hurt and would the demons come back?