Shortcomings of a Wolf Inside My Head

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Take 5 minutes to read, just a short story to get people to think a little. Maybe relate.

Submitted: March 19, 2019

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Submitted: March 19, 2019

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I know I'm not normal. I know to some, I may seem insane. But what they don't know is the battles inside are the ones that cause me so much pain. It's not the cuts, the tears, the scars that hurt, from those I have grown into something stronger. It's me, the fights I have with myself that decide the outcome of every day. I have demons in my wake, riding my emotions and dragging at my feet but I don't stop. I never stopped. I can't stop moving because if for even a moment I let my composure slip I'll drown in my own despairity. I call it my wolf for it's he who howls while I try and sleep. I call it my wolf because it's it's his teeth that sink so deep. I call it my wolf because he is strong, powerful, but deceptively dangerous. I only let him out on the rare occasion that he's prodded my the people around me to the point where he'd break the bars of his cage anyways. I'm seemingly in control but on my dark days it is he who drives me, not the other way around. Maybe that's why he's so voracious. Because I can't let him free. I fear him. The rest don't know about him and one, single girl knows how to tame his howling. One single girl makes me wish maybe he'd go away, but if he did she might leave. I feel more connected to the nights than most days and so I can barely sleep. For the nights I want to be awake for fear of my dreams, and for the days I wish I was asleep for fear of the realities. How do you free a mind that has wanted to die in a body that refuses to give up? The heart beats away pushing to live but the mind wants release. I'm not crazy, I swear it. I'm just different. My tolerances come from within the cage and so I refuse to be around people who make the wolf howl. Maybe that's why I'm so solitary. Because if I lose grip on the wolf, not even I know how I'll react. The wolf doesn't know love, or happiness. The wolf comes from every person who said I can't. Every person who threw me away before I knew it was wrong. Every failure. The wolf was created to be strong, my protector when the world refused to cradle my heart. So one day when I outgrew the tendencies of heart, protection became less important. So now I live with this wolf, but I have grown to a similar distaste for the poisons of highly immoral people's. But he is far worse than I, for I have unlike him, know love. Albeit once. But I have smiled in a way he cannot. I have laughed in the ways he can only howl. But how can we coexist?


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