Carolina Confidential

I’m running slower than my demons can fly.

They circle overhead, wings slicing through the air, always waiting for me to trip so they can descend. Every breath is heavy. Every step feels like I’m dragging myself through tar while they glide effortlessly above me.

My darkness shines like a signal flare—too bright to hide, too loud for silence. It clings to me, a shadow the sun can’t burn away. I am the sum of my failures, a collage of broken moments held together by nothing but shame. Still doing time in a prison I built myself—bars made of regret, walls painted with guilt.

The key hangs just out of reach. Always close enough to see, never close enough to hold.

They say redemption is for the strong, but strength is a costume I wear over the shaking. My demons know every crack in my armor; they carved most of them. Their whispers aren’t whispers at all—they’re blades. And they carve me into something smaller every time.

I’ve tried to outrun them.
Believe me, I’ve tried.

But the harder I push, the faster they come. Their laughter is a soundtrack to my self-destruction. I’ve screamed into the sky, begging for a sign, but even the stars avoid eye contact.

The past sticks to me like smoke—I can still taste the fires I lit, the bridges I burned, the people I scorched just to feel something. I am a pyromaniac of my own ruin, throwing matches at a life I don’t know how to rebuild.

So here I stand—exhausted, breathless—staring into the eyes of the monsters I swear I’m trying to escape. And the truth cuts deeper than any blade—

They are me,
and I am them.

Maybe I was never meant to outrun my darkness.
Maybe the prison door was never locked.
Maybe the point isn’t escape—
maybe the point is learning to live with the parts of me I’m still terrified to face.

I’m not free yet.
But I’m no longer standing still.

Even if the demons follow,
I’m done giving them the map.

Until next time,
Stay safe. Make good choices. And as always, stay kinky My friends.

~ Dray Orion