Personal Narrative Essay: The Greatest Fight Of My Life

Some call them tiger stripes, some call them battle scars. In actual fact they are medals symbolising the greatest battle I have ever faced against my own arch nemesis - myself. It was a battle wherein there was no obvious winner or loser, but I know that I came out victorious. It was easily the hardest fight of my life and it will stay that way forever. The constant uncertainty of whether or not you will actually make it through the day is terrifying, but once I was reminded what I was fighting for - my freedom, safety, and life - I knew that surrendering wasn’t an option.
My head was in turmoil. I knew what I was doing, and my consciousness was more than happy to remind me of that fact. The issue was with how addicting it was, and as time went on, it easily became my own personal form of ecstasy. It turned itself into my safety net; it allowed me to overcome the emotions I was drowning in and re-establish a sense of order to my mind and thoughts. That’s where the dangers lie though you know, in your thoughts. The unconscious ones that

All I know is that I was lying awake one night, feeling the thud of my heart getting quicker and quicker, and my hands getting consistently clammier. My vison was distorted by the tears that were slowly filling and falling from my eyes, but I could just about make out the faint outline of the more predominant items of furniture in my room. I didn’t know what to do, I had not even the slightest bit of power over what my body was doing, and my nails were far from the talons that would have been expected by the outcome of that dreadful night. The ease through which they tore through my skin, resembled the way scissors glide through paper. There was no resistance; it was as if my body wanted it to happen, but I don’t know why. What demented part of my mind would have caused my hands to move of their own accord and tear my skin into