In school, they never really teach you what to do when a demon taps on your shoulder, leaving a stain on your favourite shirt that only gets bigger. They don’t teach you that he’ll have sharp teeth and no tongue, his body transparent and his mind a highway in LA during rush hour. They don’t talk about how the stain he left on your shirt will somehow seep in between your skull and your brain. At first, it isn’t that bad. Nobody warns you that he will be able to place parts of himself in between your ribs, twisting and squeezing until you go to wail of pain, but nothing comes out. Nobody warns you that nobody can see the weights he is placing on your shoulders.
Soon, he will be under your pillow, and when you place your head down he whispers everything you hate to hear into your ears and makes it too loud to sleep. Soon, he will be there physically. He is the bags under your eyes; he is the bones sticking out of your back due to weight loss, because he tells you not to eat. Your doctor will give you medication. But it will only put him to sleep. He is always there.
Do not let him win. You are bigger than him. You have life. You can go to concerts and feel how the bass replaces your pulse, you can feel the sun warm the back of your neck, and you have the ability to create life. You can create anything you want to. There is no such thing as bad art. Let your emotions out. Scream at him to leave you alone, to go away; and soon, he will. Your ribs will be ribs and those weights on your shoulders will be gone. The stain he left on your favourite shirt will no longer be there, and you will be alive again.
The Demon (via icy-brunette)