He found me on Friday. I was at the concert when he tackled me. I tried to get up and run away but he jumped into my existence. I've been trying to get him to leave me but he's been driving me nuts all weekend. He almost took my life that night. He put fire in my eyes and a knife in my hand. On Saturday he wouldn't let me breath with out feeling him in my stomach. On Sunday he wouldn't let me talk to anyone. And last night he wouldn't let me fall asleep until I admitted he existed over and over so when he left all I could think of was what he would do when he came back, how he would hurt me next.
Well he's gone now, but sometimes I can't decide what's worse, him inside of me or the fear I life when I know he's coming.
He taunts me with death but he doesn't want me to die, he wants me to live through the hell he made for me on earth. So, for me, dying and going to hell seems like an answer. He put the blade in my hand, stares through my body into my soul and dares me. Usually by this point tears choke me, and I can hardly breath. He's a monster.
"Do it if you're so brave, If you're so great. Remember how it felt? Why wouldn't you?" I come so close to being free but he's got me trapped. I long for a truth that will leave me in peace and let me for once rest, really rest.
He takes the form of those whom love me and shows me that they don't. He is evil. He's the glue that holds everything that ever upset me inside me close to my heart, effecting everything I feel. I can't feel happy without a vibrating voice of uneasiness, which stops me from sleeping for more than a few minutes. I wake up in the middle of the night to find him sitting on top of me, staring me in the eyes, lifelessly and I'm sure he won't stop until I make the change. And even then, how can I be sure he won't be waiting for me in hell?
I am depressed.