Still Learning (We Came As Romans)
The devil on my shoulder tells me he's proud of me. Proud of my darkness. I should be proud of it too; it takes a real man to look out for himself. That's all I've ever done... look to myself. There are times when I am inspired, when I look up from my introspection and see the world, but it's short lived... I am always eager to return, to turn my back on the people I've loved and bask in the comforting warmth of my Darkness.
But I can't convince myself this is it. The devil on my shoulder whispers softly into my ears. I don't want to believe him, I want to fight back, I don't want to give in... but I do. The Dark is so inviting, and the world is so cold. It's just easier to just stay silent.
I wish I knew how to speak out. I've never had a problem with words, but only when talking to someone else. I speak into people, I'm encouraging, I'm insightful, I'm inspiring. But I save no words for myself. When the devil on my shoulder speaks, I do not answer. So many times I have helped others overcome their demons, why have I not taken my own advice? There's a war inside me that I keep to myself, and I need to talk like a king just to keep myself afloat.
The war inside me.. is a thing all my own. Noone knows, and if they do they don't say anything. As I sit in my Darkness their silence becomes condemnation. The devil speaks to me again, I came to this place alone. I am alone. There is noone here to tell me what is wrong, but I am wrong.
Why does noone speak? "Because you do not tell them."
Why do I not tell them? "Because they will pity you."
I do not want pity. "That is right, you do not need pity."
Why can I not escape? "Because you do not wish to escape."
Why do I not tell them? "Because they will scorn you."
What have they to scorn? "Your scars."
How much longer until everyone knows?
This time I speak.
I came here alone. "Yes, yes you did."
There is noone here but me. "That's... right"
Why can I not help myself? "Because you do not wish to"
Who are you?
...Silence...
There was no demon. I am the devil on my own shoulder.
I am the one who started this war. I am the one who destroys myself. I am the one who tells me to comfort myself in my darkness.
I should have started to take my own advice from the moment I started giving it. I can't change the past, I missed that chance, yes. But I can only control what happens from here. Now when I risk a look back into the inviting darkness, I turn away. I could regret my past, but if none of this had happened, I never would have heard
The Angel on my shoulder, telling me he is proud of me. This time the voice is not my own. He tells me it takes a real man to live for everyone else, and I know I believe him. This war inside me is all my own; it will never get easier, but it will always be worth it.
I'm still learning to speak out against myself, listen to the Angel as he guides me on the path I truly want to be on. Though I've lost my way more times than I have wished, my heart is constant and willing.
Dear Angel,
I still believe that we were made for more than I've been doing lately. The end of depression will be the start of getting back what I have lost; I had become conceited, but I'm making it back to where I last left off. And so I've shown you my heart.
Will you restore me?
