Den of Vipers

by K.A. Knight

When you’re a kid, they tell you stories of monsters hiding under your bed or in the dark. They don’t tell you of the very real human ones. Those who prey on people weaker than them, or even the monsters that hide within ourselves.

I’ve lived my own life, I have my own place, my own business. I earn my own money and pay my bills and buy the shit I want. I’m not rich, but I’m comfortable. I learned to change bulbs, to mow the fucking grass, to change a goddamn tire. To build furniture, to travel and be alone. In all that, I learned I didn’t need a man to be with me, to do things for me, I could do it for myself. Nothing is too difficult, you can always find a way. But that means, when I’m with someone…when I choose someone, it’s because I want them. Not because I need them for something, because I have to be with them, but because I can be with them. Don’t you want that?”

That’s the thing, though, life doesn’t owe you a goddamn fucking thing.

Sometimes in life, you meet people worth dying for, and they are usually the same people who are also worth living for.

Death comes for all of us, and until it does, we have to do our fucking best to live. To live our lives to the fullest, to never regret. To love so deeply it could fill an ocean, to not let fear stop you from being who you want to be.