We have our demons…

“I can’t let them go as easily as you want me to. I don’t know how strong, or smart or talented I am without them”

“That’s not true”

“yes it is. I am who I am because of my demons. They’ve woven themselves so intricately, so beautifully into my very identity that I don’t know where I end and they begin”

“You can’t possibly see yourself that way”

“It’s not me seeing myself this way, it’s me being honest to myself and the world for the first time. I sing with these demons, I write with these demons, I create with these demons…don’t you get it, these demons are the reason why I am alive”

“You’re justified in feeling that way, but that doesn’t make it right or healthy… “

“You say that because you managed rid yourself of whatever had latched onto you, I’m not strong enough nor am I willing to do the same. They’re like scars now, they’ve settled into my skin and they won’t go without taking a piece of me with them”

“You speak as though they’re alive”

“And they aren’t? You don’t think they’re living, breathing, feeding entities that are so real and so alive that they crave the sun, they fight back when the world, my world, is at peace and they’re drawn to all things broken?”

“I think you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not worth being saved”

“I’ve convinced myself that I’m worth leaving as is. I’ve convinced myself that if you take me to the king now, if you tie me on my bed right now, if you drag me to the pulpit, you’ll be leading me to the hanging tree and burning me at the steak”

“You are not your demons”

“But I am the fruit of their labour, and when the tree burns, so does the fruit”


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