This is a short story, kind of non-fiction based of of fictional events/feelings.
|There’s this dark demon hovering over me, leaving me in shadow, fucking with my head. “Do it” he says, “you know you want to.” I try to fight it, but the demon has me pinned there, not allowing me to escape. “You want to do it. You need to. You have nothing else, you’re worthless.” He says to me. The demon consumes me; takes over every part of my body and soul. I surrender to the demon and lay there, overtaken by the darkness. Alas, my darkness has overpowered the light once again. I lay in my bed, consumed, unable to move. Unable to do anything. When the darkness is gone, I feel nothing. As if there is nothing inside me at, neither light nor dark. I lay there curled up in my bed, staring at my closet; this dark, empty space of nothingness. Just like me.
The next morning I wake from my tormented sleep.
The first time the darkness took over me, I had let it. I let it control me because feeling nothing, or anything at all was better than what I had been feeling already. The emotions and feelings of worthlessness were too much for me to handle. So I found a way to cope. I came to the realization that if I could cause myself physical pain, then I wouldn’t, at least for the time being, feel the overwhelming emotional pain. I would feel nothing for a while, and that was a huge relief from what had be going on inside my head. But then after a while, I started to feel nothing more often than not. I became this empty shill of who I was. Each day, I would put on a play for everyone, including myself. If I wasn’t miserable, then I was feeling nothing at all, and I got really good at hiding that. For a while I thought I could fool not only everyone else, but myself as well. Then it got worse. And I started to use physical pain as a way to feel something. Anything. I had to make sure that I could in fact still feel something. Even if it was only physical pain, it was better than being completely empty.