I should have reported back to headquarters when I realised it was too late. But I don’t remember when that horned devil from the second shoulder beat me. The devil started to fade a decade ago, when the innocence of my human was ripped from them. It had concerned me, but I had thought my human was powering through with strength and pure goodness.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

That devil has become a part of my human’s mind. It can whisper to them quicker than I ever could, and I can no longer hear those whispers to contradict them in time. So, I now make this vow, never to stop trying. I will stay on this shoulder til the end; doing what I can to convince my human the devil’s whispers aren’t the way forward. With each troubled frown I will whisper hope. With each tear I will soothe them with words and songs that they know. With each second that passed in haunted silence, I will yell at the top of my lungs with words of encouragement. I will forever do all of this, while knowing my words may not reach their ears.

I will not stop.

Tunnel Vision

Life is a road and I’m a car.

Some people drive along a highway, taking the most efficient route to where they’d like to go. Others have to stop along the way to get gas or to make repairs. Some people take windy, but beautiful paths, and others drive back and forth to the same places. Some people’s cars break down, and the best friends you have are the ones willing to help you work on yours.

I’m driving along taking the twists and turns, enjoying some and not enjoying others. I see different scenery, but I tend to overlook the beauty that I see often, taking it for granted.

I get stuck in traffic. I get mad at the people gawking at accidents, and I applaud those who stop to help others.

My car works. I do what I can to keep it running; maintenance, gas, the usual, but the road changes sometimes.

Sometimes the road is gravel, making the insides jostle around. Sometimes I drive over bridges. Sometimes I get lost.

Sometimes I find myself in tunnels, the kind where you have to hold your breath, even if you don’t want to. Sometimes I blink and there it is. I don’t really know how I got there, but I realize all of a sudden that the road is darker than I remember it being. Sometimes the darkness hits me like a brick wall, enveloping me in it before I even knew it was coming. I always try to turn around to avoid it, but sometimes I can’t.

Sometimes it takes hours to get through the tunnel, sometimes it takes months. Some times I turn around in time, sometimes I don’t.

Not all tunnels have lights, so I have to use my own. But sometimes the tunnels are so dark that I can’t see the road. People tell me to just turn on your lights, but I can’t remember where my lights are, or how to turn them on. No matter how many tunnels I’ve been in, it’s still hard to see in the dark.

I could call someone who has been in my car before and ask them to help me find my lights. But I worry it’s a crazy question. Who doesn’t know where their own lights are? Even if they tried to help, I still have to find them on my own.

I know there’s an outside, but I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know how long it will take to get out. I know there are signs that will help me find my way out, but I can’t see them in the darkness.