I saw a ghost today. It resides inside my head. It peeps deep into my dark soul and paints it more black. Black, the colour of sin and pain.
What causes heart aches? I asked myself. I don’t know, the heart said. The devil who sits on one side of my shoulder smirked. I know he’s a “Mr. Know it all.” He’s not a good company to be with. But he never leaves. He knocks on my door when I sit by the window contemplating my life. Its silhouette always lurks in the corner of my room. I don’t know what to do with it now. He acts weird sometimes. Though, I’m not afraid of him anymore.
I looked at my nerves. I wanted to slit it into two halves. I’ll sacrifice one half to him and tell him to go away. I want to paint the walls of my house red. Bloody red! Probably, I’ll do it with my blood stains. I wonder how the floor of my house which is already red will look with blood shed on it… Will it be even visible?
I want to scream. I want to be so violent that the agony inside me finds it way out of the cage. Sometimes, I think am I going crazy? I stare at the stars. I don’t like these kind of nights. It reminds me of my past. I don’t want to remember it. There is nothing good to reminisce. It makes me anxious, I tremble in pain, I start stuttering, I turn icy cold. That sight of me makes the devil happy.
My eyes reflects pain, you see. They are always sad. That’s why I wear eye make-up to hide its gloom. They give cry at the drop of a hat. I don’t like it. They are so emotional that it makes me hate them. They look vulnerable. Once someone wrote a poetry on them. He says, they inspire him to bleed pain in a piece of paper. The devil should be happy, again.
I hope, the ghost disappears by itself. I don’t want to encounter him again. It makes my PTSD worse, you know. It doesn’t let my mind rest. It demands me to hurt myself. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m over that period. The devil keeps smiling from the corner of his lips thinking I’m trapped in his fist. But, I shall defeat him one day.