I don't turn my back, I stare them in the face.
They.
Like a shadow follows its host in the spotlight of the moon in the most quiet time of night.
Shadows.
Following, lurking, staring. They, the infamous they.
There is no name, there are no words known to me to tell you what they are. What they do. How they taunt me.
They stand near me, whispering, screaming, begging me to come.
I cannot run or hide for they are with me wherever I go.
In my happiness they laugh, knowing they'll tear me down, knowing it won't last.
They scream for help as if I am their savior. It makes me want to go to them, hold them like a child covered in darkness, but their blood covers me, it blinds me. Are they real?
Why do they need me? I ask why? Why did they choose me?
How can I possible join them? Can I? should I try? If I do does that make my heart dark too?
I am afraid to go to them, but they call me. They stay with me.
All my joys tainted by their shadows.
Are they a part of me? How do I cut them out of my head, out of my heart? I can't breathe, at least I don't think I can, yet I am here with air in my lungs. How do I make it stop?
How do I cut them out of myself, stop the whispers, the screams, the begging, the darkness? How do I tell someone? How do I explain this without getting put away?
Written during an anxiety attack.
