Every day, I get a reminder of nature's mistake. My nametag at work, the recipient of a piece of mail, a trip into a public restroom, and some days, even the reflection in the mirror.

I feel a twinge, like the essence of my personality twisting into knots. Each one leaves a permanent mark in my thoughts, one more scar that only I can feel. They've been occuring for so long that they're stacked, layer upon layer where they should blend into a texture, but yet they all remain individual, with their own little history, each ready to bring back the pain.

I know I can stop this. This emotional demolition, that I have to continue to get stronger just to keep myself sane, to keep out of that pit of depression that I've explored in the past enough to know I don't want to be there, and that I might not be able to get out next time.

I know just what to do.

But fear lies in my path. It prevents me from taking those last few steps that lead to a place where I can shed that monster that I've been given. It bears down on me every time I twitch.

It remains such a powerful force, a controlling entity, because it lacks any real form, any real substance. It can be all the horrors that can happen, held together by just a few wisps of imagination. It's the monster under the bed, fed for years only the finest in possibility, and trained in countless nightmares.

It's a wall that I can't see, but holds me back far better than any material that can be created. It keeps me here in this pain, keeps everything good about me on the path to rotting away to leave me a hollow shell.

Someday I'll get past it, since I know I can... maybe continuing my slow inch by inch creep, or maybe running through it in one burst and getting past it. But for now, it holds me too tight for either.


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