And much like the feeling in our hearts, the snow came crashing down. Not in a haze, not in a flurry, but in a storm. In a storm so severe that it rattled on the hinges of our demon, teasing him with the idea that he can come out. And as the snow came slamming down, cutting us like jagged knives, the lock was also cut, and to wreak even more havoc on ourselves, our demon came and tore us apart. He tore our chest open and tipped out our mind. He brought it to the table and served it to everyone we loved, and those we loved turned away. No on is saving you. Nothing is saving you. You feel lost as you wander in the snow, looking for the heart that has been so long removed. This storm has gone on too long. And, just when you think it’s letting up, it falls again and completely wreaks havoc on your life again. And your demon runs off with your friends, your family, everyone you respected and loved, causing you and them to separate even farther until it's only you. It’s only ever f***ing you. And you feel so f***ing alone that the pain in your chest gets even more severe, and the demon comes closer, and the snow is up to your waist now, and moving is getting harder and harder, and breathing is getting harder and harder, and the snow that cuts like knives really cuts like knives and it cuts so severe that you bleed. But you accept the bleeding because it's the only warmth you have in your life. It's the only warmth you have in the storm. And the demon comes closer and he snarls and spits and you see him, his dark looking figure towering over you, and you wonder, how the hell was he in me? How the hell does he control me? And you fight against him, his ideas and his sickness, but you can’t fight against something that’s already inside of you. And he takes your imagination and your ideas and all of your passion and love and replaces it with memories and thoughts and all these f***ing things of what could be, while in the snow you sit and rot because your thoughts are feel warmer in there, but they aren’t. And the snow tracks up to your chest now, and the breathing has gotten almost impossible, and moving is no longer going to happen, and the blood soaks the snow but the snow doesn’t go away. You feel the cold seep into your veins but you don’t really feel it because the thoughts in your head are taking you somewhere else, somewhere where you don’t want to be but somewhere where you can’t get out. And the snow falls and cuts away your hair and your skin and covers your mouth and your nose and the blood is all gone. Oh god, the blood i gone. And then, you try to look around but there’s nowhere to look but inside your head, where it’s kind. And there’s no more blood to warm you, and the thought keep looping and looping and looping until you find yourself in the same thought in the same instance over and over and over again and everything you ever do just ends up in the same thing over and over and over again. And just when you think you can get out of it, just when you think you might die and get rid of the demon once and for all, you don’t. You don’t die. And although your friends think the worst thing is to die from your demon, and from the snowstorm, you know the worst thing. The worst thing would be to be stuck in this f***ing storm with this demon, trapped in your head for your entire life, with no end. That is the worst thing that could happen. And then the breathing stops, your heart has been gone for a while, and you forget what it’s like to laugh and cry and smile and actually look at things and actually listen to things and to actually feel because the ice and snow has made you so numb for so long. So long. And numbness has become the only feeling you have, the only feeling your used too, and this numbness is not alone, because the numbness brings in sadness and anger and unjust and pain, lots and lots of f***ing pain. And you want the pain to end but you can’t. The demon won't let you. Your friends won't let you. But they don’t understand. No one does. No one understands the pain you go through every f***ing day, the feeling deep in your chest, not in your heart, but around it, behind it, to the sides, that constricting and tightening that makes you out of breath and you find that it’s like breathing with an elephant on your chest. And this tightness extends through your extremities and through your arms and legs and into your brain and it fills every crevice in your body, every nook and cranny and undusted, unvisited part of your brain, and the demon crams himself in there and around your heart and gives you nothing but pain and you want it to end but the demon won't let you. And you feel like whose body is this anyways? I’m here but I’m not making my choices, i'm not feeling what I want and know I should feel, and I’m not feeling anything I want to. I only feel the pain. The demon is controlling me, is feeling the good, and the bad, and is crying and laughing, while I’m here huddled in the corner hoping for it to end but you know it won't ever end, and the demon won't ever give you your--his--body back. And you want to tell someone but no one will listen because there are no words to describe the pain that you are in, and there are no words for what you deal with every day. And you wish there were because then, for once, people would know what your feeling; but that’s not how the demon does things. And while you try to be in control you know that everything you hear and everything you see and everything that you experience you will think of negatively, and all thoughts will lead to more thoughts and more thoughts and more thoughts until you find yourself back in the now again, back in your mind, trapped. And all your thoughts lead to the same conclusion, a conclusion you know you can never choose. A conclusion that doesn’t exist. One you wish did. And in all of your thoughts you have someone and they have you and you love them and they love you but there’s that nagging at the back of your head, from the demon, reminding you that it’s all fake, none of it is real. But wouldn’t it just be easier to live the happy life in your head than the sad life you exist in? And your back thinking about existence and consciousness and your back thinking about the bad things and back to wondering why, why me? Why do I have do this? But that demon puts you back in your thought world and you live a life without yourself because you know that little projection of yourself in your head isn’t real, you know they aren’t you. But you want to believe, you want it to take you to a life where you can see again and feel again and listen again, and where your senses work and your mind is your own and you have ideas and you can live in a real life. But it’s not a real life because it’s in your head. And all you have in the end is cold, your done, and the thoughts in your head that you try to stay away from but they look so real, they feel so warm. And days turn into weeks and weeks into months, and months into years, and you just think and think and think but they aren’t your thoughts their someone else’s. And you scour everything in your brain, looking for a way back, looking for what made your life so great, and you find nothing. You find nothing because it was replaced with a fake memory long, long ago. And everything you held dear has been replaced with these fakes, and you realize that if everything in my head is fake, and I live a fake life, I’m fake too. Because if I think, therefore I am, that must mean I am not me, I am my demon. And by the time you realize this all of your friends are gone, and your stuck, your left here in the cold, in the snow, and it’s above your head now, and the demon is fully inside you now, and you can’t do anything but just watch as everything you loved and everything you ever cared for walks away and forgets about you, and you forget about your passions and your ambitions and your dreams and become nothing but a thinking fleshy body buried in the snow, and your heart is somewhere else and your mind is somewhere else, and all you have is the demon, the snow, and the thoughts.
A Blizzard of Knives that Cut
January 19, 2018