Inside Me the Demon Sleeps
[memory]
I remember storming into my father's room after some heated argument. We still lived in the Ferncrest house in St. Louis, but I can't recall exactly what grade I was in or how old I was. Seven or eight, perhaps?
I slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. Seething in fury, I scanned the room for something to throw or destroy--anything that would make my father pay for what he had said to me. I had to destroy something that was meaningful to him, to penetrate deep into his psyche and make him hurt. My eyes locked onto his briefcase.
In a flash, I had it open and begun strewing things about, determined to empty its contents and destroy every bit of organization contained in that case. I worked quickly and unleashed my demon. My only thought: destroy what is important to him.
As I watched the remaining documents flutter to the ground, I took a breath and surveyed my handiwork. When the realization of what I had done swept over me, I began to panic. What had I done?!?!? That instant, I heard a knock on the door. My father's firm voice demanded to know what was going on.
I hastily stuffed all of the papers back into the briefcase while muttering profusely that I was sorry. I did not know what was going to happen after that door opened. But that was not important. What utterly terrified me was not my father nor the probable retribution that would ensue. What terrified me was me. Within me was a beast I couldn't control. It was an evil seed planted in me by my parents, and I hated them for that. How could I rid myself of it and avoid the fate of becoming them?
From that day forward, I swore never to let it out. I learned to tame it, to suppress it, to bottle it up. Strangely, though, I found that the beast gave me strength. As I suffered through the dregs of high school, the beast was the one who kept me alive. When the Dean of Students tried to break me, when my English teacher told me I would end up "flipping burgers" for the rest of my life, the beast protected me from their onslaught. It was my constant companion, my guardian. I still could not trust it, however.
The years went by, and my life began to change--slowly, but for the better. I was no longer an outcast. I finally escaped the clutches of high school. College was liberating. Suddenly, I found myself in California, free to follow my dreams and pursue my own life for once. I did not need my companion anymore.
I thought perhaps that if I were at peace it would leave on its own, for it cannot not survive without conflict. Yes, serenity. That was the answer. So, I isolated myself from strife, hardship... even love. I have not allowed myself to know these things.
And so I wait for its departure. Patiently, I wait...
But I cannot deny it. Inside me the demon sleeps.
I remember storming into my father's room after some heated argument. We still lived in the Ferncrest house in St. Louis, but I can't recall exactly what grade I was in or how old I was. Seven or eight, perhaps?
I slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. Seething in fury, I scanned the room for something to throw or destroy--anything that would make my father pay for what he had said to me. I had to destroy something that was meaningful to him, to penetrate deep into his psyche and make him hurt. My eyes locked onto his briefcase.
In a flash, I had it open and begun strewing things about, determined to empty its contents and destroy every bit of organization contained in that case. I worked quickly and unleashed my demon. My only thought: destroy what is important to him.
As I watched the remaining documents flutter to the ground, I took a breath and surveyed my handiwork. When the realization of what I had done swept over me, I began to panic. What had I done?!?!? That instant, I heard a knock on the door. My father's firm voice demanded to know what was going on.
I hastily stuffed all of the papers back into the briefcase while muttering profusely that I was sorry. I did not know what was going to happen after that door opened. But that was not important. What utterly terrified me was not my father nor the probable retribution that would ensue. What terrified me was me. Within me was a beast I couldn't control. It was an evil seed planted in me by my parents, and I hated them for that. How could I rid myself of it and avoid the fate of becoming them?
From that day forward, I swore never to let it out. I learned to tame it, to suppress it, to bottle it up. Strangely, though, I found that the beast gave me strength. As I suffered through the dregs of high school, the beast was the one who kept me alive. When the Dean of Students tried to break me, when my English teacher told me I would end up "flipping burgers" for the rest of my life, the beast protected me from their onslaught. It was my constant companion, my guardian. I still could not trust it, however.
The years went by, and my life began to change--slowly, but for the better. I was no longer an outcast. I finally escaped the clutches of high school. College was liberating. Suddenly, I found myself in California, free to follow my dreams and pursue my own life for once. I did not need my companion anymore.
I thought perhaps that if I were at peace it would leave on its own, for it cannot not survive without conflict. Yes, serenity. That was the answer. So, I isolated myself from strife, hardship... even love. I have not allowed myself to know these things.
And so I wait for its departure. Patiently, I wait...
But I cannot deny it. Inside me the demon sleeps.
posted by Andrew at 12:28 AM
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