I find myself plagued by the monsters within my own mind, they claw at the edges of my skull, scream at me to let them out. They demand me, to tell their stories.
When I'm not writing, I'm daydreaming, I'm barely ever in this world. I spend more of my time wondering around my own mind. I've even been known to laugh at the characters talking in my head.
I don't find my stories dark, although, for others, they may be. I've led a colourful life; born on the wrong side of the tracks, lived next to drug dealers, paedophiles. Multiple neighbours have died, and not by old age or illness, some through suicide.
I've spent the better part of the last decade dealing with my own demons. My main goal for writing, other than it being an enjoyable outlet, is to help others with their own demons. I want to show others how to live a life without fear and eventually become free.
If all you get out of my stories is an enjoyable read that's okay too, but ideally, I'd like to touch your soul. Leave you contemplating your own existence, so you can try and understand who you are, who you want to be and how to be that person. 
Eventually, I will allow the world to see my work, for the moment, I'm trying to develop my writing and the Malice Writing Workshop has been helping immensely. 
Therein lies my conundrum, first, I must control my dyslexia. Here goes, all constructive criticism is welcomed.