They were born into the darkness inside our heads. They whisper to our ears in the harmony of the night when we are bitter, cold and alone; masking the tunes of our hearts. They feed on our anger, dread and sometimes on our pains and fears. They force themselves aboard our thoughts and see the worlds through our starry eyed souls. They touch upon the details of our imagination. They feel our seclusions and depressions while numbing the rest of the sensation that we've got left. Anxiety nurtures their remains and distances make them louder and more tense. You can see them crystal clear written with an ink darker than blood on the skin of the strangers. Like an invisible bruise that disappears when other people look. Some of us might have been graced with a singular voice that fights back against all the nonsensical ones. It does all the self-hugging but the score will always be nine to one. We all have them. But these little monsters take different forms. We like to give them our o...
We are not superheroes with big red capes or vigilantes who fight crime at night. We are just personas with pens in their quivers and who are passionate enough to share the rowdy thoughts devouring their souls.