The Metaphorical Noose In The Raven By Baudelaire

Going through the motions of life can give even the most mentally fit vertigo. The ups, downs, joined by its bending twists and turns can be exhausting. It's hard to stand on your own two feet when the ground beneath you is constantly shaking, and screaming, as we stumble to place a solution to life's problems. How do we find stability when our circumstances are always changing? Whether our struggle stems from family, finances, race, sex, and beliefs, our plight is consequently our own to manage. Uniquely affecting each of our problems, decisions, and shapes how we go about our day to day lives. The monster lurking in the closet, scratching at the walls and contributing to our late-night insomnia, is not a figment of our imagination, but

At 25, I've been experiencing a haunting and persistent yearning shadowing my ambitions. Despite my efforts, I've been losing my sanity in order to quiet this elusive raven. Like many of us, I feel trapped on a hamster wheel teetering in circles struggling not to topple over into this unyielding mess of a life. Much like the Baudelaire's, my childhood was comprised of a series of unfortunate events. Made up of a frail foundation along with an upbringing that can be best described as undesirable. Born into a disjointed family, I was used as a pointed edge of a knife between parents whose primary focus seemed to be gutting out each other's ego. However, I was left wounded with lengthy gashes stretching across my psyche. Such torture left me crawling back and forth, trying to make sense of their manipulation. Each time I became increasingly unsure of my belonging. After all, being told by either, let alone both parents, not to trust one or the other was traumatizing. Being forced to choose between either of them was inherently a burden, and asking me to do so was impossible. Such an ultimatum manifested the belief that difficult choices are a quintessential part of life. They have written my very existence, developing my character, decisions, perceptions of the world, and broadening my melancholy. They have altered the path of my personal journey in ways I'm not even conscious of, and escape at the

I always dreamt I would become a starman polluting the universe with fuel from some prolific spacecraft with a fleet complimented by its like-minded visionaries. Instead, I stroll the halls of a glossy high rise condominium carrying a buzzing radio as an abhorrent rent a cop twiddling my thumbs questioning my worth. Becoming content with a life unfulfilling knowing the potential of everything it could be is excruciating. Anxiety is like a prowling beast clawing at my self-esteem, stripping away at its meat, devouring accomplishments, and sowing my fears in favor of a bountiful harvest. The realization that I'm starring in a dismal horror movie of my own design is disheartening. A rare mind rendered inept due to a lack of confidence. A familiar story that I've heard once too many times. Just another casualty to the predator creeping in the lining of our