In most scary movies, the naïve group of friends usually performs some dumb spell to conjure up some demon they have no idea how to deal with. Well, what if I told you all that I was even dumber than those groups of friends we see on television? What if I told you that I invited the devil into my home, willingly?
I beat myself up all the time looking back at all of the pain and trauma I could have avoided at my own hand. My own stupid hand with which I let someone I thought I knew to attempt to love me. The one thing to always remember is that the devil cannot love. He is simply incapable of it.
I met his dark soul at my 21st birthday party hosted at my home. A close friend brought him with him. When he walked in he was all smooth skin and dark slick hair in a long braid. At first, he didn’t say much but that quickly changed as he grew comfortable. He blended in. Joking, laughing, dancing on heavy feet. After that I perused him. At first... for the first year... everything was grand. We ate, enjoyed one another’s company, and stole kisses on late nights. I remember thinking that they were the sweetest kisses and that no one could love me the way the devil loved me in his sin. But perhaps now, given the things that I have seen, the devil may have only played a trick on my gullible eyes.
In my past, I lived with a demon with the same blood as I. Maybe that makes me a demon myself, being born from immense darkness. I had my troubles long before I met the devil and was skeptical in letting him be involved in my life. I was afraid to ruin something I THOUGHT was good. In that year my home life was in a chaotic tornado. It tended to destroy relationships with friends and caused self-consciousness within myself. I constantly fought against it.
Now the devil was not all bad. In fact, he was quite sweet. So when our relationship turned sour it saddened me. Constantly, he thought I did not love him, that he did not deserve me. I did my best to quench those fears. But eventually, just like in the movies the devil grew too strong and raged out of control. Once my trust was betrayed by a dear friend being taken from me at the devil's hand that was when my own demon began to surface.
The wars between us were destructive and negative. Darkness grew in our hearts toward one another. I tried to calm mine as he did the same. But his tongue was rude and his mouth spewed such venomous words that the wounds inflicted began to run too deep and I lost myself In them. I became defensive and angry. His negative aura was possessing me and my body could not take it. But when in love you fight. You fight to go on. But constantly I felt that I was the only one fighting while he sat in hell and laughed at me. So I made a terrible mistake and sought comfort in the words of another. One I knew would never hurt me in that way. In turn, I gave the devil more leverage over me. I’d hurt him, and now he had the taste of blood and chocolate in his Mouth. But I was lost and my words to myself were always repeated,
“I cannot just leave someone because of their problems. I wouldn’t want someone to leave me for my struggles.”
Every time we fought like dogs I spoke to myself in private, shedding tears for my toxic lover.
Toxicity is a dangerous thing. Both parties have it but when your relationship is sinking, the cosmic effect can be tenfold.
I asked for guidance.
Instead, the devil took his hand and reached into my chest, breaking my rib cage as he pulled my heart from it and left it bleeding out on the corner of Culver Street in mid-afternoon. The pain was unimaginable and weighted. Somehow, after everything that had gone terribly wrong, I still loved the fool. The beautiful mean fool. It was a mystery to me. I’d never felt pain so strong. The disrespect had not been enough for him. The slaying of something innocent was not enough for him. Him breaking my heart after almost three years regardless of the struggles of being together meant nothing to him.
To this day, the devil still spews hateful words that I return in bittersweet kindness. I never thought that we would have ended this way. I thought the love was too strong and the time spent was too long. But the devil holds no concept of time or rational feeling. To date, as he projects false words about someone he so widely praised over the years stung. And of course, I was mean and vengeful. My feelings were hurt and my heart still scattered among the floor.
These days the devil haunts another, trying to contain the seeping darkness only I know well. So as I remove my hand from the board used to conjure this dysfunctional soul I say goodbye and realize that in the long run I was the tortoise and he was the hare. I may have taken months and months to heal and look past the pain and scars left behind, but all I can do is thank the devil for his
Time because without it I would not be able to look anyone in the face and say that I went to war with the devil, and won.