Suppress shadows.

You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?

Relationships shape us in ways we don’t always understand. They offer love, comfort, and belonging—but they can also bring confusion, pain, and betrayal. I spent years trying to navigate the complexity of human connections, only to realize that beneath the surface of every relationship, there exists an unseen force—one that distorts perception, fuels insecurities, and whispers doubts into our minds.

I call it the demonic mind.

Not in a supernatural sense, but as a hidden part of ourselves that feeds on fear, resentment, and unresolved wounds. It’s the voice that tells us we are not enough. It’s the feeling of distrust that lingers after betrayal. It’s the rage that blinds us, the jealousy that poisons us, the self-doubt that keeps us from seeing our true worth. It doesn’t come from others—it exists within us, shaped by our experiences, expectations, and the wounds we refuse to heal.

I have lived with it. I have fought against it. And for years, I didn’t even know it was there.

I used to believe relationships were about giving. The more I gave—time, effort, love—the more I thought I would receive in return. But life doesn’t work that way. People don’t always reciprocate. Love isn’t always unconditional. And the hardest lesson to learn was this: not everyone sees the world the way I do. Some take without giving. Some love with conditions. Some manipulate, knowingly or unknowingly, to fill their own voids.

I spent years pleasing others, believing that if I did everything right, they would stay. But in doing so, I lost myself. The demonic mind grew stronger, convincing me that I was never good enough, that I had to prove my worth through sacrifice. It led me into relationships where I was undervalued, where I gave too much and received too little. It silenced my instincts, making me doubt the truth I already knew deep inside.

The breaking point came when I realized I was living for others, not for myself. I was trapped in the illusion that love meant endurance, that loyalty meant suffering in silence. I had to confront the shadows within me—the fears, the self-deception, the wounds I had ignored for years. And when I did, I saw the truth: the demonic mind was never about others. It was about me. My fears, my choices, my willingness to ignore the red flags.

Uncovering this truth wasn’t easy. It meant walking away from people I once cherished, setting boundaries that felt unnatural, and learning to say no without guilt. It meant choosing myself when I had spent my life choosing others. But in doing so, I found something I never had before—freedom.

This book is not just my story. It is a reflection of the battles we all fight within ourselves. If you have ever felt lost, betrayed, or trapped in relationships that drain you, then perhaps, like me, you are ready to unmask the shadows and reclaim your mind.