My Demon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The constant demon following me everywhere I go, waiting for me to commit a mistake.

Submitted: February 16, 2015

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Submitted: February 16, 2015

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 It’s not your typical feeling of sadness or anger after a bad day, I promise you, I miss those feelings. It’s not a single feeling that haunts my every thought and action but a deadly and ominous combination of dark thoughts and ideas that follow me everywhere. It’s the feeling of an empty heart and hollow lungs that fills my head and pushes its enormous weight on my shoulders while my brain feels as empty and light as before you collapse from dizziness. 

It’s the feeling of constant hope and constant rejection that knocks me down to the ground over and over again until nothing but dirt, soil and insects cover my metaphorical lifeless body. A feeling of insecurity and disgust, a feeling of disappointment that nothing could ever resolve since the root of this problem does not come from a single source or a unique path. 

Feeling confused and disoriented, are not  symptoms of depression, but it’s original cause. While some may think that depression is the constant feeling of sadness and hopelessness they might as well confuse this soul devouring disease with happiness and joy since they could not be more wrong. Depression is not a result of sorrow and anguish emotions, but the absence of any form of emotion. How I miss the days when I was angry and sad about anything. How I miss the days bad news came to me and I had a emotion to smack its face with. How I miss the days I had the fear of losing something I held dearly. 

Imagine you could feel the skin of your body. Imagine you could feel each and every dirty microscopic element on your body. After endless showers, and even after you’ve gone to bed and woken up after hours of turning and twisting, you can still feel your disgusting body feeling the cold air and the humidity at the same time. Your skin aches, but not the ache of sunburn, but the pain of sensitivity and softness. Your skin flinches at the touch of your clothes as you feel their weight and pressure on your arm and legs, feeling trapped and boxed in an already imprisoned mind.

It feels like drowning while you’re sitting miles away from any puddle of water, feeling as if you’re heart is rejecting the intake of oxygen, that dense gas, filling your body with an ache you can’t cure and an itch you can’t scratch, cause even if you try, and even if you think, believe me, you’ll never find the true source of this pain. You could try and figure it out, you could believe you found it, but trust me, it will come back, stronger than ever, it will surprise you, and it will eat every piece of your soul until you’re nothing left but a grown man laying in a fetal position wishing to disappear from this world in the same form you came to it. 

It’s not only the dark thoughts that twirl inside your head twenty four hours a day and seven days a week, believe me, it’s the happy thoughts that are the dangerous ones. It’s the elusive happiness that pushes me to create perfect and ideal images in my head that would be later shattered by the brick of reality, causing me to fall in my pathetic pit of misery and self-loathing. 

It’s a voice inside your head, telling you everything that you know is true and bad, everything that’s accurate and sad, everything that’s pointless but deadly. It’s a continuous shriek keeping you from focusing and paying attention from the boring school lectures to the cozy place you once thought kept you isolated from the outside world.

It’s worse than an enemy. It’s worse than anything concrete, walls cannot separate you from it, and distance can only make it grow stronger and wilder. You can deny it all you want. You can ignore it as you please. It’s there, and ready to attack, and don’t worry if you think you can catch it in action or foresee it’s approach, you couldn’t be more mistaken. It’s quicker than any animal, yet settles in slowly and swiftly. It’s as unpredictable as an earthquake, yet you can feel it coming, still wondering when it’ll strike and force you to have one of your episodes. 

You would think that when someone is diagnosed with depression, they would always be sitting in their bed, sad and moping, feeling blue and living in the darkness of their lonely room. You would think that they wouldn’t laugh and that they wouldn’t want to feel joy and humor. You would think that they’d only listen to sad and heart felling songs all the time. We laugh. We force it. Not for the one telling the joke. Not to trick the public into thinking we’re okay. For tricking our body and our own mind into thinking we’re fine. 

It’s the unpredictable heart beat rising at random occasions and heart sinking emotion while watching a beautiful view that would push you to say and do things you never thought you could. It’s the knuckle forming, toe bending, legs twisting emotion that would leave you feeling worn out and worthless. It’s threat is so scary that I fear it following me into the after life.


© Copyright 2020 amdrag. All rights reserved.

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