The Monster.

We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realised they were inside us.

It's been a while - I've realised - since I have written a proper venting blog. One with raw emotion and unedited thoughts, blurring my computer screen and snatching my heart. And the reason? The reason is: I've had nothing to vent about. For the past few weeks I have been so unbelievably happy, gushing to friends non-stop and having the time of my life, that I'd had nothing to rant, rage or cry about.

But now I feel all crushed and worn. Something has changed in my mind, and I can feel it coming back. The unhappiness. The darkness. The monster that lives inside, waiting to break through and destroy all the walls that had taken so long to rebuild. That clouded mind. That distance. That loneliness.

Just when you feel everything is going right, something needs to happen to slow it all back down again. No one is allowed to forever be happy. No one is allowed to be perfect.

I find that I am tired all the time, and seemingly nocturnal at night. I've been here before, and I knew I'd come back. Though I don't know if I am there yet. I feel like I've been on a really long train ride, and it happened to break down a few stations too early. 

Will I ever reach that destination? The one I long for, where my hopes and dreams actually come true? The one where all of my plans work out the way I wanted? Where people are caring, and as amazing as they should be? There are no lies there. No fucking around or cruelty. 

If only there were such a place.

It is true that I am not back in the dark just yet. Though I can see it; feel it approaching; rushing at me; ready to tangle me in its mix of webs and spiders. 

I just hope that someone sticks out their hand to come and rescue me before then.

I'm sick of doing this alone.