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by Jonas Weaver
This is the tale of a child, lost and wandering. This is the story we tell ourselves, that everything’s gonna be okay baby. But it’s not. Everything is imploding inwards. Call me a cynic but you know deep down I’m right. Just keep telling yourself the stories that everything is gonna be okay, that no one is gonna knock on your door in the middle of the night. I will. I am the monster under your bed. And I am the evil in your head. Messing with you yet? Good. It’s supposed to.