control is just smoke and mirrors
The mantras only work until the shadow shows up with receipts.
The apartment felt thick and heavy, silence draping every corner like a suffocating blanket. It wasn’t just quiet—it was the kind of silence that dares you to shatter it, just to prove you’re still breathing.
Each inhale felt foreign, dragging through the stale air like it didn’t belong in my lungs. It clung to me, sticky and unwelcome, like humidity that wouldn’t let go.
Movement felt impossible, and yet, the stillness demanded it.
Do something. Anything.
But I stayed curled in the armchair, knees pulled tight, the blanket wound around me like armor that had seen better battles. If I stayed like this—just one more second—I could trick myself into believing I wasn’t unraveling.
That things were fine. Or close enough to fake.
Sandalwood drifted faintly through the room, but it didn’t do what it was supposed to. No calm. No peace. Just stale memories trapped in the scent, the kind that linger like regrets you thought you’d outgrown.
Burning it was pointless.
As if inhaling incense could scrub the mess out of my head. As if I could breathe out the weight pressing on my chest.
But the mess stayed. It always did.
Laundry draped over the furniture like bad decisions left out too long. Notebooks scattered across the coffee table, full of thoughts abandoned mid-sentence, waiting for energy I didn’t have. Coffee mugs dotted the room like shameful little reminders—evidence of every morning I swore today would be different.
But it wasn’t.
The walls shiver, split wide open—
memories spill like rot, thick and choking.
My fears rise from their graves,
eyes hollow, hungry, dragging me deeper.
I thrash, drowning in everything I buried.
Then the dark breathes against my ear,
low and certain—
"I’ve been waiting."
And suddenly, I don’t know
if I’m the prey,
or if the dark was mine all along.
The days dragged, and I dragged with them, leaving behind this quiet wreckage that cluttered my apartment—and my mind.
I pressed my hands into my eyes, hard, until sparks of light burst behind my eyelids. Breathe. Think good thoughts. Focus on what’s working. I knew the drill. Hell, I’d lived it.
But the walls told the truth I refused to admit.
The chaos wasn’t just out here. It was in me too.
That’s when I felt it.
Shadow.
Slithering through the cracks in my mind like ivy creeping up a crumbling wall.
It always showed up when I was tired, when I clutched the hardest to keep it out.
“Oh, babe,” it murmured, slick and knowing. “Still clinging to your little mantras? Like that’s ever worked.”
My breath stuttered. “Not tonight,” I declared, the words brittle, like they might snap in half. “I can’t spiral. Not right now.”
Ego stepped in, cool and collected, voice sharp with false reassurance. “Exactly. Don’t entertain this. Stay positive. Stay on track.”
I nodded fast, desperate. If I stay positive, I’ll stay in control. If I stay in control, nothing breaks. Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other, even if the floor was crumbling beneath me.
But Shadow’s chuckle was warm, almost fond. “Control? Oh, sweetheart, you’ve never been in control. You’ve been running. Running from everything you’ve buried. And it’s catching up.”
The knot in my stomach tightened, twisting like a fist.
Shadow was right. I knew it.
I could feel the cracks spreading under the surface. They’d been there for a while.
The memory came fast, sharp.
The cold one-room apartment, the walls too tight, pressing in no matter how many blankets I piled on. The breakup hit me harder than I’d let anyone know.
I kept saying I was fine. Smiling through it. Just keep going. You’ll get through this.
Except I didn’t.
I saw it clearly: that night in the kitchen. The glass slipped from my hand, shattered on the floor—and so did I. Collapsing into myself, gasping between sobs that felt like they might split me in two.
Every fear, every failure, every lie I told myself spilled out, drowning me.
I stayed on that floor for hours, curled tight against the cold, until morning came and I had no choice but to get up. I never told anyone. What was the point? It was easier to smile. Easier to keep going than admit I was drowning.
I pressed harder into my eyes, forcing the memory back down where it belonged. Not this time. Not again.
Ego hissed in my ear, sharp and desperate. “Exactly. Don’t let it in. Keep moving. Stay positive. We’ve come too far to fall apart now.”
My grip on the blanket tightened until my fingers ached. “If I stay positive,” I claimed, “I’ll stay in control. I won’t get stuck.”
But Shadow leaned closer, voice soft as silk. “You’re not moving. You’re standing still, hoping the cracks don’t show. But they’re there. And when they give, you’ll fall.”
The air grew thick, heavy, the walls inching closer with every breath.
And then I saw it.
Just a sliver—peeking from beneath the edge of the blanket.
The notebook.
The one I swore I’d thrown out.
My heart jumped, thudding hard against my ribs. My hands shook as I reached for it, the cover frayed and familiar. The weight of it pressed against my skin like a memory I didn’t ask for but couldn’t shake. I knew I’d buried this. How the hell was it here?
Ego snapped, panicked. “Don’t open it. Walk away. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
But Shadow hummed, satisfied. “You knew it would find you. It always does.”
The spine cracked as I opened it, splitting the silence wide open.
There it was—my handwriting, jagged and uneven. A desperate scrawl from a night I’d tried to forget.
"I don’t think I can do this."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of my chest. I could see myself sitting there, pen trembling in my hand, every word a lifeline I clung to that night.
And beneath those words? Something new. Something I hadn’t written.
The ink was dark, fresh.
"Neither can you."
My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out every other sound. The room seemed to close in around me, the air thick with something I couldn’t see—but felt. Cold slipped across my skin, sharp and deliberate, like fingers trailing down my spine.
Ego’s voice cracked, frantic. “Close it. Get out. Now.”
But the notebook pulsed in my hands, heavy with something alive, something waiting.
And then the pages began to turn on their own.
Fast. Too fast.
Memories whipped by—thoughts I wasn’t ready to face, words I’d buried deep. The pages flipped faster and faster, the sound slicing through the silence until—
They stopped.
At the last page.
A new message stared back at me.
"I never left."
The words curled off the paper, thick and suffocating, filling the room with an unseen presence.
And then I felt it.
A shift beneath the blanket. Slow. Deliberate.
Something stirred.
My breath hitched.
The notebook vibrated in my hands, thrumming with tension, alive in a way it shouldn’t be.
And then the light flickered.
Once. Twice.
Darkness swallowed the room whole.
And in that blackness, I heard it.
A whisper—low, deliberate, brushing against my ear like a cold breath.
"I’ve been waiting."
The blanket dragged across the floor, slow and deliberate, as if pulled by unseen hands.
And then I saw it.
A figure—just at the edge of the dark. Watching.
Its eyes gleamed, familiar and filled with something I didn’t want to understand.
The notebook slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
And the voice returned—low and certain.
"Let’s finish this."
The walls tightened, the air alive with tension, and a hand—cold and bone-thin—reached out from the dark.
And everything went black.
—Ryan Puusaari
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P.P.S. "Blankets make lousy armor, but they’re better than nothing."
Embrace Your Inner Strength With Trigger Warning
Ready to confront the parts of yourself you’ve been dodging?
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Packed with practical exercises and sharp prompts, it pushes you to face emotional triggers born from old wounds and unmet needs.
It will bring to the surface the stuff your inner child tucked away.
Are you tired of running?
This is your shot to smash the old cycles and rewrite the script with something real—self-love that sticks. One reflection at a time, you’ll inch closer to freedom.
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Awesome story. Great description, and intriguing plot. I loved it!