It starts like this.

You become less able to communicate, less able to talk comfortably, less able to interact, less able to even look people in the eyes, but you feel this is a part of who you are. You don't suspect anything is wrong.

At least, not yet anyways.

You have a few friends, but you know they went to talk to you but you just can't, it shouldn't be so difficult, you've done this countless times before, you've talked before, so why can't you just open your damn mouth and say something?

Life moves on you begin to realize there's something off about you. You seem to be the only one who acts this way. Everyone else can function just fine, but why can't you?

You come across websites that open your eyes to what's really been going on. You're not just shy, you're not just uncomfortable talking, you're not just a reserved person, no, it goes much deeper than that. It's a mental illness that literally plaguing you, separating you from the world of normal human beings who can live out their lives just fine while you constantly struggle with the simplest things.

It continues like this.

The anxiety continues to get worse. It doesn't go away. It's chronic. It doesn't stop. It's hungry. Hungry to devour your voice, your confidence, your self-worth, everything that you need to function in your day to day life.

You never say a thing, though. How could you? Even when you do manage to get your voice back, everything else is too damaged to be of any use. Trust, self-esteem, it's all gone. There's not a single thing to salvage to help you get out of your situation.

So the anxiety festers, planting itself in your brain, continually getting worse and worse. You become self-conscious of every little thing, every word, every action, because everything and anything can be scrutinized, everything and anything can be used against you, everything and anything can drag you down so easily because you're either too weak to fight back or you've just given up altogether.

You're not sure anymore.

It gets worse like this.

You never thought it could happen to you. You never imagined that the constant dark cloud of overwhelming helplessness against the mental bug in your head could turn into something much, much worse.

The demons starts to come, slowly at first, they come here and there, not enough to put you completely on edge. Then they start coming in twos, threes, fours, by the dozen, until you're stuck in a period of time where the overwhelming sense to just end it all tempts you. Sometimes, you're faintly tempted to give in. It would be much easier that way. You wouldn't have to worry about dealing with this awful illness or the demons tormenting you or the fact that you're too weak and alone to do something against all of this.

But you're not giving up just yet. You try to remind yourself of all the things you still want to see, experience, taste, touch, feel, and hear. There's so much of that, you just can't miss out on it.

So the demons leave for now. They haven't been back for a while. But you know they'll come back.

They always come back.