TW: i can hear the spirits whisper through walls, the evil ones, seeking my soul to feed demons fueling my depression with toxic thoughts that blinds my conscience everyday i fall weaker as they come closer to feast on my broken soul
i fail to keep my sanity and fall for their evil trap i seek forgiveness for it wasn't me but the devil that possessed my senses luring me to follow them into the realm of the dead as i take a step further to let my warm blood flow against the cold floor
When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind. — Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
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