I sit alone in this abandoned bedroom, as the sun reaches in through the window and lies across my lap. I wish I could say that I have it all figured out after battling the demons in my head for some kind of eternity. I wish I could say that self-hatred has been expelled from the vocabulary of my thoughts. I wish I could get up and do all the things I’d like to see myself do, and feel all the things I’d like to feel. And I am, slowly, improving in such matters as these, becoming more open to the idea that I am worthy of some form of purity in my lifetime. The colors of the leaves have changed twice over since the last time my body truly felt my spirit residing within. It was as if I had fallen into some sort of dark canyon in my head, watching my “self” live a life of fallacy, a life that was not my own, a life that I could not control but only watch crumble over itself until the only sensation I experienced was that of a dull grey. What possessed me? A demon, as I’ve named it. A demon that I had stopped fighting, letting it take over my body and my existence almost completely. I cried out from the bottom of the canyon as I watched the ones that once loved me unconditionally slowly fall into a state of desperate frustration and anguish. They knew the body but not the spirit within, not anymore. I watched them reluctantly walk away, screaming in the loudest desperation for them to turn around, to come back, because maybe one day I would come back, too. Maybe if I yelled constantly, someone outside of myself would sense me, trapped in the depths of a body I once would have called home. But it was not their job to wait on the edge of the abyss, even if they somehow knew I was down there. Because they could fall in, too, and besides that, they had no idea how deep into the canyon I had fallen. They could understand nothing of my position from the cliff’s edge, no matter how long they stared into the inky black below, wondering how long they were to wait in this position of disappointment and mourning until they could move back onto their own prairies or mountain ranges. This terrain was not their own to trek. I remained at the bottom of my canyon, watching the bright world I had once adored turn dull and lonely. The demon within was taking hold. I began to forget everything that I loved as the demon’s consciousness slowly forced its way down the cliff and into my spirit. What did I adore about my loved ones? Why was poetry so appealing to me? Was it even appealing anymore? I did not know. Soon my own spirit was slowly turning from a fresh forest green into the all-encompassing grey. I could not fight this any longer. My hands shook and my mind had wandered somewhere into the gravel under my feet. It became so quiet, so cold. Finally, I lay down amongst stone and dust, and the pulsing light that ran through my spirit began to fade from shining freedom into some sort of numbing purgatory. I remained there for ages, day after day, month after month, ignoring the growing aura of black and grey that surrounded me from every angle. And then one day, I found myself in complete darkness. My spirit was dying; just a few tiny rays of light, almost invisible, escaped from within me. This was it. I was to give up and vanish into smoky mist. I could feel the particles escaping from me, slowly, oh so slowly. I pondered the meaning of emptiness, of darkness, of nothingness. It would be so easy, to leave myself behind…

The demon had destroyed my spirit and taken my body hostage. It had done its job wonderfully, and now came the simple ending. A razorblade against this body’s wrist. Pain radiated throughout my entire spirit. I could feel it as I felt nothing more. I couldn’t feel anything except this final pain. And suddenly the thought of singing along to my favorite song in my car, on the way to god knows where, dripped into my mind like the final tear that rolled down my cheek after a panic attack. Something within me cried out, like a starving child, and I ached for more of this feeling of brilliance. I had forgotten completely about the days of glowing adventure and ambition, when a river of wonder crashed through my veins. And then, I realized that I had almost lost myself completely. Was this not my plan? I wanted to end. No, I wanted this to end. I wanted the demon inside me to seep out from the pores of this body and fall back down into the ground, toward the darkness from which it had come. Stop! I cried out in a strangled whimper. I needed to fight this, but even as I tried to stand, I fell to the ground. From the bottom of the cliff, I looked desperately upward, and I suddenly realized that I was spirit, not body. I was not trapped within the confines of gravity or fitness, and these stone walls surrounded me only because I was unwilling to let go of the defeat I had allowed to confine me.

I stood up, and I fought to take hold of the body that was mine. I fought to restrain myself from making those unforgiving cuts on my wrist, until finally, my hand was able to let go of the razor. I had finally fought the demon, and I threw him into the abyss. After years of disconnect between my body and my spirit, they have at last been reunited.

I believe the demon is still down there somewhere, and it fights to climb the walls surrounding it with its sharp claws and strong legs, but I am ready with the light that it despises so strongly, and it falls back into the abyss, alone and powerless once more.

It continues to fight, but so do I.