TW: i can hear the spirits whisper through walls, the evil ones, seeking my soul to feed demons fueling my depression with toxic thoughts that blinds my conscience everyday i fall weaker as they come closer to feast on my broken soul
i fail to keep my sanity and fall for their evil trap i seek forgiveness for it wasn't me but the devil that possessed my senses luring me to follow them into the realm of the dead as i take a step further to let my warm blood flow against the cold floor
The thing about plummeting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late. — Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune
