Tartarus

Your mind is not your own. Your mind is a massive never ending pit and you balance precariously over its mouth, one foot in front of the other, on a fraying rope that could snap at any minute. You are merely a sentinel stationed at the doors to the largest and most dangerous prison in the cosmos. There are Chimeras, all your worst memories ripped apart and crudely stitched together like some kind of horrific quilt of self hatred. Wendigos skulking in the shadows, starving because they rapidly consume and destroy all semi-good thoughts you are able to conjure. Sirens, everyone who has ever told you they cared about you and then crushed your dwindling self confidence on the rocks. All of them and more below you buried deep in the darkness, and yet still a hair's breath away, monsters too terrifying to face.

But face them you do, and you would give anything to stop. To lay down your sword and let the demons have you because then... it would be over. That is all you want, to stop fighting, to stop holding the world on your shoulders. You used to be more hopeful.

You used to think it would be so sweet to drop your armor and be welcomed home into loving arms. To be warm, to be dry, to be safe; but now you know the truth. You can't live without the pit because you don't know how to.

Your pit has been there since you were seven years old, and although it sucks down everything good and light in your life it is consistent. When your Dad was drunk and your mom was busey, when it was 2am and you couldn't sleep because you were terrified of the next day, it was there. Your pit… your prison… it is all you have. You can’t fill in your pit, you can’t lock up your cage because you don’t want to.

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