The swamp

It’s dangerous, full of deadly creatures, yet the sun sifting through the trees and the warm humid temperatures belie the true horror that lurks there.

You haven’t seen what I have, you haven’t wrestled the beasts in the dark. You haven’t longed for a breath as you were pulled under the water struggling with the strength of an unearthly monster.

Or maybe you have.

Then you know of that which I speak, the snarling and voracious demons that never relent. The swamp is teaming with such vermin who seek to tear the flesh, break the bones and crush the life from you.

Mental illness, depression, anxiety, PTSD, bipolar disorder are their names, though they care little what our names are.

There is no escape from them, only momentary relief, enough to give a sliver of hope… then they attack, again and again.

I am not complaining to you for my lot in life, hell you have your problems as well. All I’m saying is this is my battle and I will fight it my way. For as long as it takes.

If it takes me to poverty, to live destitute, takes all I have and returns me nothing, sharpens its teeth on my bones and uses my flesh for its strength…so be it. If you share my plight you may not agree and that’s your right. This is how I choose to battle the swamp. I will never give up though there be nothing recognizable left. I will have fought to the last breath and not given over my will for nothing.

When I am done, they will know they have fought a valiant foe, that the reputation they have gained cost them dearly.


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