Livind among the deamons

Memories. Memories are always been our demons. Memories, dreams, hopes are products of our mind. Memories are kept unconditionally and they are doing more harm than good. Night dreams and day dreams represents our hopes but sometimes night dreams in reality sounds like mental desease. Hopes are just too many.

 We are not the creators of this world but we are the editors of our own lives. We decide where we want to be, what we want to do and our conscience is our only enemy. She tell us what is right and bring us down when it’s wrong. She is our fuckin judge and our body is the court.

Every day it’s a battle, ourselves and she. The voices inside my head tell me more than I can bear. Incomprehensible words, too much letters and in the end of this, conscience wins. 

Why?

Because we are too fuckin dumb to do something that we want, not that our conscience consider to be right. We are too stupid to tell what we feel. We are afraid of other people’s judgment. We are not afraid of losing people or things and this is her fault.

We are our own deamons.