I Swore

I'm trying to be better, I swear I am.

I have constantly battled my demons in broad daylight through color, through physical vibrancy, through facial animation. But every now and then I slip and I get back to where I was all over again, still stuck in my personal hell, never moving forward. It hurts, knowing that no matter how hard you try to break through the surface you always plummet down, spiralling downwards through days, through weeks, through years. It's been years. I am tired of looking behind my shoulder thinking everyone is against me, of reading through words and finding myself irrationally hurt, of fighting the current that has enslaved my being. Despite my penchant for romanticizing my pain, I get hope; slivers of color in my monochromatic perception. These few moments are those that I crave the most and I fight again. Fight for the light to never leave me, to smother it until I can no longer. Desperate to give what I have and have someone else take it. To find kindness in words, in small gestures and finally to find kindness for myself but who am I? I am gone.