A Lingering Fear Within My Heart

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Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. I honestly can't tell you. I... I don't feel comfortable telling you. It still eats at me every day, like a cat eating lasagna.

And yet it keeps trying to escape, clawing at the door of its cage. An animal enalaved that wants freedom.

It scares me, like a cat sprayed with water. Afraid to become the meal of a bigger animal. Afraid that I'm out of the watchful gaze of Lucifer and now am stared upon by the malevolence of God.

I can feel it pulsing, the trauma's heart beating with life, pumping terror through my veins that it claims for its own.

But yet, I remain hopeful. My hope is that one day, I'll be able to see what truly is in the mirror. To face my fears once and for all. The Devil is by my side, and no angel will ever break that harmony. It's about time that I face what has been tormenting me. What has caused my suffering. So I can let you know. To let everyone know.
But yet, I remain hopeful. My hope is that one day, I'll be able to see what truly is in the mirror. To face my fears once and for all. The Devil is by my side, and no angel will ever break that harmony. It's about time that I face what has been tormenting me. What has caused my suffering. So I can let you know. To let everyone know.

Yet at the same time, I feel hopeless, like I'm at the bottom of the sea, chained down with brass chains with no hope to resurface. Like the mirror had taken my soul and shattered it like glass. I still fear that I'll never be able to tell anyone what I must overcome. Especially you.

It feels as if the world is inverting on me, like it's taunting me, almost. It's sick. I feel sick. Weak. Frail.

Still, it cannot be overstated. I must step forward. I must face this. I can do it. It's not like it will kill me, right? My heart pounds with vigour like it's an engine ready to drive. My gaze steadies as I calm down. I step towards the mirror, ready to face this once and for all...

... It's a motherfucking salmon in a fucking top hat. This was the shit I was afraid of? I'm a fucking catgirl and I'm afraid of what's essentially tonight's dinner? I can't even fucking make this up.

 
I'm out. If you want to contact me, email at LilacDewsbury@gretelheart.com[notes 1]. I'm fucking out. Good day.
 

Notes:

  1. ↑ Not a real E-mail


Written by Zaenon
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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