In a world that requires responsibility, there is little room for reckless behavior. We aim to see beauty in the world, and do our best to cultivate it’s frequency into our own lives. But the beast(s) lay dormant, ready and waiting to take up arms over the very system that controls it. You.
Many demons grapple with my soul. The hungry beast is one. It’s the Viking gone to conquer a nearby village, veins pumping and hungry for blood. One that celebrates victory with endless ale and all his lustful desires fulfilled.
This beast is savage. It will rationalize every irrational thought until the lines between truth and fabrication are blurred. At that point, it’s presence has been made known and should not go ignored. It must be addressed, firmly, in order for it to remain the subordinate it’s created to be. Otherwise, you risk irreversible damage to your identity.
The battle to rid the body of this infection is dreadful. Allies turn to enemies, and we fear the world is working against us. A world that knows our greatest vulnerabilities, sometimes better than we do, and hopes to expose them all. The beast retreats to regain its strength while we battle what's unfolded before us. With little strength to fight, we ourselves retreat into isolation only to dive deeper into a world of darkness. It’s painful there and dull, and leaves our wounds open for other demonic thoughts to take their vicious bites. It’s a lonely place where light will not be found.
In college, the hungry beast controlled most of my behavior. I’d live for the weekend in order to use that blood thirsting energy on the playing field. The opponent would feel pain, my pain, that had been carried with me throughout each week. After a victory, celebration came in the form of drinking heavily. The beast that gave me power to dismantle the opponent that day was to be rewarded. As the night continued, the self-proclaimed king I was aimed to feed the sexual desires of my appetite. I’d wake up with shame only to bury it fast. However, those overwhelming feelings of disappointment and guilt slowly rose from their graves throughout the week. On gameday, they would unleash and the cycle would once again begin.