I have this terrible habit of nursing my demons to health after I’ve committed them to damnation. It’s a sick fantasy I keep feeding; where I can’t see myself letting go of them because a very large part of me believes I deserve them.
I grew up with these graceless nuances, quirks, ails and emotions. I know what makes them tick. I know what moves them, what inspires them and what hurts them and to hurt them, for some morbid reason, feels like burning off a part of myself.
I’m ready to shake them off though. I’m ready to free myself of these suffocating, pointless creatures of malice that have moulded themselves onto my skin and inhabited my every breath. I’m ready to lose the taste of their intoxicating liquor.
I’m ready to banish this terrible habit; to not mourn them, to not pity them and to not need them to define me.
I’m ready to move on.