I'm Tenebrix.

You probably weren’t expecting me.
No one ever is.
But here I am, slipping in during the quiet moments, stretching out in your chest like I own the place.

You’ve felt me before.
I’m the weight in your bones when the alarm goes off.
The fog between your thoughts when you try to focus.
The ache behind your smile when someone asks, “Are you okay?”

I’m not always loud. I don’t need to be.
I settle. I linger. I drain.
Motivation? Gone. Joy? Distant. Energy? Optional.

I don’t want chaos. I want stillness.
The kind that keeps you in bed, keeps you disconnected, keeps you second-guessing everything. That’s where I thrive.

I don’t care if you’re smart, successful, or surrounded by people who love you. That just makes it easier to convince you you’re failing anyway.

But recently…
You’ve been talking back. Naming me. Drawing me. Dragging me into the light. That’s Cute.

Do you think awareness is enough?
That therapy, rest, and reaching out—can keep me on a leash?

…Maybe it can.

But I’ll still be here. Waiting. Watching.
And every time you rise again, I’ll grumble from the shadows and whisper,
“Let’s see how long you last this time.”

I’m Tenebrix. I don’t leave, but I hate it when you fight.

So go on.
Fight.