I am a fighter. Yet the most devastating battles will never reach the surface of my skin or find their way to the world of the senses. If it occurs to me to breathe in my surroundings, that may be the sweetest victory I will know for that day. Others may be enlisted in the battle and, with only the best intentions, they will attempt to take command. Or will it just seem that way as their thoughts join the melee of already swarming brain-flies?
Each day I wonder if people recognize the comfort of knowing, at the very least, that it's just another day and they will live for another one? Don't get me wrong. Somewhere, where it counts, I know that. If I didn't, the fight would be over or postponed indefinitely. However, I can forget. Thoughts are just thoughts. They're only as real as I make them. They become more than real when I attempt to strangle and destroy every mental intruder that shows its face. These fights take their toll and no one even knows they happen.
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