My Demon

My Demon

There’s this reoccurring dream that I used to have when I was younger that still haunts me to this day. It would all start with my closet door opening and the old skinny man manifesting from the closet. He looked completely of poverty and seemed to get off on my misery. He would approach with this awkward twisted limp, wearing nothing but a potato sack and his skin was dry and crusty all over, but those things were his most displeasing features. It was his eyes that made him seem like pure evil, there was nothing but blackness where his eyes were supposed to be.

I was always in my bed during the dream I didn’t have the common sense to get up or fight the man. I just lay there and wait for him to start. He’d always take his time examining me not in a perverse way, but it was like he was reading my mind or my spirit and figuring out the best way to kill it.

“You’re so pathetic,” was his favorite line to start with. “So damn stupid,” he’d mumble. “I don’t see how you dress yourself you’re just that stupid.” I would just nod. There was no sense in arguing with him he’d only intensify his attack and give examples of my stupidity it was best to lay there silent.

“You have no defense for it do you?” I shook my head like a good little girl.

“And you’re way too fat. You look disgusting. No one will ever …EVER… love you, you can forget about that. Don’t worry though you won’t be alone. I’ll always be here to help you stay in check. See if I weren’t here you’d think that you might have a chance in this world, but the truth is you just weren’t meant for it. I know I watch you day in and day out and little ugly girl the world is going to swallow you up whole and then shit you out.” I would try not to cry since I knew it was just a dream. It was something that my subconscious was plagued with coming to the light but sometimes his words hurt. He always knew when he’d gotten under my skin I’d see his sick toothless smile. He leaned in and looked at me once more with his dark holes for eyes.

“Damn, you’re so freaking ugly, but that’s nothing in comparison to how stupid you are. I actually feel bad for you. You try so hard in school but it just doesn’t stick. You just aren’t meant to do anything in life. It’s like you were mistake … God let you come down to earth without completing your brain I suppose. It’s a shame really to be ugly and stupid is a double curse most people suffer from one or the other.” He shook his head as if he felt any sort of empathy for me.

The devil sent here to me after all. I had my own personal demon a nameless ashy old man who lived in my closet.

“Have you thought about becoming bulimic? At least then you wouldn’t be fat and ugly, then you’d just be ugly.” He offered as if it were a real alternative. He looked at me as if he expected an answer.

“Well, fatso doesn’t become mute as well. Speak!” He commanded.

“No,” I mumbled.

“No! Why not? Are you scared you’d mistake you finger for a hot dog and try to eat it?” He chuckled. He’d go on and on this way until sunrise or until something else would wake me. I never told anyone I had a bad dream because after a while they were so bad. I saw the old man as the only one who was real with me. He told me the truth so I didn’t expect any miracles from my life.



So for that reason alone I’m thankful to him, the old man who to this day, comes and visits me now and then to remind me of who I really am.

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