i told him about my demons, and he told me about his. he told me they found him when he was only a kid. he was afraid of telling people, because he was terrified of them thinking that he was crazy. he said: "sometimes i think it's myself, in my own voice talking to me. if that makes sense." i cried, i cried because i never knew, a boy like him would be fighting demons at such a young age. he would stay up late at night because that's when the voices got louder, no one else heard them but him. he didn't deserve to be left alone with voices and having no one to help him, no one to talk too. he thought it was normal, to be bullied by his own mind. sitting there, isolating himself from the world, picking out his insecurities every nightmare, hating himself was the only way he could cope. he thought it would be best to just ignore them, and they would go away. but he doesn't deserve that, he didn't deserve it at all he was only nine. he had nightmares, he never slept. how strong could a kid be back then?
"when i was like 9 or 10 it always told me everyone hated me, no one cared about me and i thought there was something inside of me. or me talking to myself, it kept telling me that and every night i always had nightmares. i didnt know how to control it, one day i just didnt listen to it and thought about good things and it went away, i dont know how, i don't know what i did, it just went away."