My Demons Don’t Fight Fair

Mental health fucking sucks.

There’s no prettier way to say it.

No ribbon to wrap around the wreckage,

No silver lining when your own mind

Declares war before you’ve even opened your eyes.

Every morning I wake up

Already exhausted from battles

That happened while I was sleeping.

I am trying my damndest.

I’m clawing my way through days

That feel heavier than mountains.

I’m forcing breaths into lungs

That forget what peace feels like.

I’m dragging hope behind me

Like it’s chained to my ankles.

And still…

These demons keep showing up.

They whisper every lie

I’ve spent years trying to unlearn.

“You’re not enough.”

“You’re too broken.”

“Why keep fighting?”

They know exactly where to hit.

They don’t fight fair.

They wait for quiet moments,

For lonely nights,

For tears I swore I wouldn’t cry anymore.

They laugh when I stumble,

They celebrate every panic attack,

Every sleepless night,

Every second I question

Whether I’ll ever feel like myself again.

But here’s the thing…

I’m still here.

Maybe bruised.

Maybe shaking.

Maybe crying so hard

I can’t tell where the tears end

And the rain begins.

But I haven’t surrendered.

Every breath I take

Is another middle finger

To everything that wants to bury me.

Every sunrise I survive

Is proof that these demons

Haven’t won.

Maybe today I only crawled.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll crawl again.

But one day…

One day these scars

Will tell a different story.

Not about how perfectly I healed

But about how many times

Hell reached for my soul…

And I still found the strength

To pull it back.

Mental health fucking sucks.

It steals.

It lies.

It cheats.

But it doesn’t get to write

The final chapter.

Because even on the days

I forget how strong I am…

The fact that I’m still fighting

Means somewhere inside this battered heart,

There is a warrior

The demons still haven’t been able to kill.