They speak to me, constantly.
Whispering first, like spider legs brushing against the back of my neck.
Then louder, sharper, jagged syllables that bite and tear—
Until their screams drown the air in my lungs.
“You’re a fraud.”
“You’re worthless.”
“You don’t deserve to exist.”
I hear it every moment of every day.
Like static beneath my thoughts,
Like rot creeping through the cracks of my mind.
Every move I make,
Every breath I take—
They’re there, watching, waiting.
“You’re pretending,” they hiss.
“You’re fooling everyone,
But not for long.
They’ll see through you.
They’ll leave.
And when they do, you’ll deserve it.”
I try to drown them out,
But they claw at the walls of my skull.
Obsessive, relentless—
Picking apart every action,
Every word,
Every flicker of emotion I dare to show.
They’re always there.
When I wake, their weight sits on my chest.
When I try to rest, they curl beside me in the dark.
And when I look in the mirror,
It’s not my reflection I see—
It’s theirs.
Their voices bleed into me,
Until I can’t tell where they end and I begin.
Am I the liar? The fraud?
Am I the hollow shell they say I am?
Sometimes I think I am.
Sometimes I think they’re right.
I try to fight back, but I’m tired.
God, I’m so tired.
Every step feels like walking through tar,
Every breath a labor,
Every thought a war I know I’m losing.
“Why don’t you give up?” they ask.
And the question lingers,
Like smoke in a room with no windows.
Why don’t I?
Why don’t I stop?
Why don’t I let myself fall?
The abyss is always there,
Just one step away.
It’s quiet there, they say.
No voices.
No pain.
No pretending.
And sometimes, I believe them.
I let the thought linger in my hands,
Feel its weight,
Trace its edges—
Cold, sharp, final.
But somewhere—
Somewhere beneath the noise,
Somewhere buried in the rubble they’ve made of me—
There’s a voice.
It’s faint, trembling, and weak.
But it’s mine.
And it whispers, **“Not yet.”**
Not yet.
So I take another step,
Dragging their chains, their curses, their hatred—
Every heavy weight they’ve tied to me.
I take another breath,
Even when it feels like shards of glass are tearing through my chest.
And I whisper back, **“Not yet.”**
Because I’m still here.
And if I’m still here,
There’s something they haven’t taken.
Something they can’t touch.
A flicker, faint and fragile—
But alive.
They want me to fall,
But I will crawl.
They want me to disappear,
But I will persist.
They want me silent,
But I will scream,
Even if it’s just a whisper in the dark.
Because there’s power in survival.
In refusing to vanish.
In refusing to be erased.
They can scream,
But I’ll scream louder.
They can tear,
But I’ll build again.
Because if I’ve made it this far—
Through the abyss,
Through the noise,
Through the endless war inside me—
Then I am stronger than I’ve ever known.
And someday,
When their voices are just echoes,
When their chains are rusted and broken,
When the darkness lifts,
I will stand.
I will breathe.
I will live.
Because even in the darkest night,
There is a dawn waiting to rise.
