You decide you will be happy. You decide you will forget. You decide you will not think about the past. You decide you will let nothing stand in the way of success.
I don’t think that’s a good idea, says the voice in the back of your mind.
Why, you enquire? I’m being so positive, stop being such a pessimist here and help me out.
You will lose. You will fall. You will fail, again. As you have previously. Need I remind you? Countless times.
You are in a panic. You know the voice is right. You have failed in the past. Been reduced to broken pieces, worse than when you started off. What if this time, too….?
This time you have promised others, again. There it is. Are you actively looking to hurt people? , asks the voice in a whisper. You promise them the moon and you return to them no better, on your knees, asking for even more help.
But..but..this time I’m stronger, you tell yourself. Yes, this time my resolve is harder.
‘Resolve’, the voice smirks. That word is not for you. You were never enough, were you. Never pretty enough, never good enough, never intelligent enough, never witty enough, never strong enough, nothing ever enough.
I don’t care about the never pretty enough. I’ve accepted that, and I’m over it. You can go to hell if that’s all you’ve got. You feel slightly better.
Ah, but you do care about the others, says the voice slowly, relishing each and every word. You never were good enough, and deep inside you know that.
It doesn’t matter, you say, I will work on it. I will be better. But you are faltering. Your mind wants to go on a journey of introspection. You try to stop it, because you know once it goes down that path, there is no coming back. All you will get is pain, regret and guilt.
You fall. You cry. Tears falling down your face, and you have no idea why. This is why. The fear. The fear of failing again. The fear of will power not being enough. But what can you do, except try another time?
Fall down harder than ever, and hurt those that make the mistake of loving you.
You refuse to listen. You refuse to listen to that voice. You know what it’s saying is true, all true. But you refuse to listen. You will try, this time, the next time, and the next. And the hundreds of time after that. Even the science of probabilities will give in someday, and you will succeed. You will one day be proud to be who you are.
I will feed on your worst fears. I am the dementor in your mind, is the last thing the voice says before it goes. For now.
But in saying so it has given me the only tool to fight it. In calling itself a dementor, it has given me hope that it can be defeated. I will be my own Patronus, and until I win, I will fight.