i stopped running
when i realized
the monster chasing me
was just my reflection
in a funhouse mirror
built from shame.
shadow work isn’t healing.
it’s flirting with your own demons
until they blush
and hand you their knife.
i didn’t conquer my fear.
i tied it to a chair,
fed it midnight truths,
and asked it what it’s protecting.
sometimes
the light you’re looking for
only shows up
when you agree
to dance naked in the dark
with your grief.
i became my own exorcism
and whispered,
“stay.
i want to know
what haunts me.”
turns out,
my darkness had good taste.
she only swallowed the parts
that made me powerful.
so now,
i kiss my shadows goodnight.
we dream in blood and ink.
and every morning,
i wake up a little less afraid
to be the whole fucking galaxy.
-Anais
AnaisWrites 