A letter to the devil
There is a monster in my head. A monster that I locked up a long time ago, but he is like Einstein: smart enough to get out. To me he is like the devil, dark, black eyes and a blood, red skin. This monster in me is angry, really angry. And that is exactly my problem: anger. I can’t deal with it. Whenever I want to be angry at someone that I truly love from the bottom of my heart, I can’t. When the devil takes over my mind and my body, everything goes wrong. But I am part of that monster, he is a part of me. A part that I don’t like to show off, but when it happens I know the closest people to me stay. That, that is my illness.
You little monster in my head, you have been there for such a long time. And as time went by I got to know you better, that’s why I wanted to get rid of you. I never liked you in my head, you made me crazy and suicidal. You taught me a lot about myself, about who I used to be and who I am without you. I swear to God, I try to do the best I can for everyone. I always try to care and help when they have a problem even if they live more than a 1000 miles away.
But then, you come back into my head and my mood suddenly changes. I am angry, I am so angry I feel like I need to hurt myself. I deserve to be hurt, to feel my skin burning. I have to hurt myself. No, don’t hurt yourself. Stop! Just stop! What are you talking about, it’s good. It’s okay, go on, hurt yourself. This is why people leave you every time. Bullshit, don’t you like the blood? It is not like you have never done it before. You promised to stop, you promised to never do it again, so why? No, do it now. Don’t break that promise. Can you please stop fighting?