Demons

“I just can’t seem to do anything right.” Neil bemoaned, slouched over himself as he sat on the edge of his bed. “I Just fuck everything up.”

The thoughts crept back in, swirling about his head. They never go away. They remind him that he’s right to feel this way, and to silence the shred of hope calling from the preceface of the cracked and shattered world inside his head.

‘—Fuck everything up’

‘—Never do anything right’

‘Everyone thinks you’re a failure—’

‘—You’re nothing but trash.’

Neil stared blankly at the floor, his heart heavy and the pressure of hidden tears bulging his eyes. A sudden thought back to work, what his boss had said earlier that day, then to every emotional outburst he had ever had, then to every time he mistreated and disrespected his loved ones. The words and actions of the past that still carried grief with them spun around his mind, a disturbing barrage that reinforced his self-hatred. The thought of self-harm came back, but would it even lessen the pain he felt inside?

‘You’re a fuck-up’

‘No good.’

‘You’ll never get better’

He knew he was wrong to think this way, but he couldn’t silence them. He couldn’t turn them away or shut them up. The words echoed loudly in his mind on repeat.

‘Better off without you’

‘Curl up and die.’

‘No one would miss you anyway.’

Neil swallowed hard then shook his head in a vain attempt of shaking off the thoughts.

They only came back louder.

He tried to think back to his family, only to be reminded how little they reached out to him, and all the times he had disappointed them. He thought back to his life’s works, trying to reconcile, to justify his existence, only to conclude everything he did was worthless and in vain. He thought of his friends, then realized they, too, hardly reached out. If not for him, he would have no contact with the outside world. Probably for the best; who would want to be around him anyway?

He began losing it. He could feel the well of tears behind his tired dry eyelids, threatening to burst. His chest was heavy and his breaths shallow and labored. He wondered just who he was anymore—a sudden onset of imposter syndrome struck him as he tried to navigate a new wave of insecurity.

‘No one wants you’

Claustrophobia settled around him in his dark bedroom as he sat surrounded by the things he had made and collected, as well as dirty clothes, food wrappers, and garbage. He hadn’t had the motivation to clean in months.

’Look at this mess!

‘Your parents would be so disappointed in you’

‘Such a fucking slob’.

‘No one wants to come over because of this’

Neil looked around, then nodded.

‘Of course we’re right. You’re nothing but an undesirable self-sabotaging wannabe.’

'You have no friends.’

'You have no family that cares.’

‘Why do you bother to live?’

Neil wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his biceps tight, shutting his eyes.

‘You’re nothing’

Finally, the tears broke through. In the silence of his room he wept.

‘Are you seriously crying? What are you, three?’

‘Real men don’t cry’

‘Fucking get over yourself’

A mix of anger and sadness overwhelmed Neil’s soul as his chest heaved silent sobs interrupted by the occasional sniffle; he felt as though he was tearing apart, yet being sucked into himself. He sobbed harder.

‘Such a baby’

‘No wonder you have no friends’

‘Oh, boo-hoo! Have a fucking pity-party!’

Neil thought about reaching out to the ones he trusted. He glanced over onto his dresser where his phone lay face down.

‘You’re going to cry about your problems to them?’

‘No one wants to hear your sob story’

‘Don’t even bother, they won’t want to talk to you anyway’

His gaze fell away from the phone and back to the floor. He continued squeezing his arms as he cried, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to think. Could he even think?

‘You’re alone in the dark’

‘A fucking loser’

They were so loud now. His voice of reasoning was being drowned out.

‘Hated’

Another sob.

‘Forsaken’

Neil began curling up.

‘Worthless’

A mere thought of ending it all ran through his mind, attractive like an alluring woman making her way through a crowded club, catching his attention and calling out to him.

‘Give in’, she whispered, ‘You have nothing more to lose’

The faintest part of him knew these voices were wrong, yet they continued to haunt him, to torment him, day in and day out. Beyond his daily façade of smiles and forced happiness lay within a legion of demons tearing him down piece by piece, brick by brick. His foundation was barely holding together.

‘Come on, give in’

Neil lied down on the bed, not wanting to end his life, but wanting the voices to stop.

‘We’ll never stop’

‘We’ll always be here for you.’

Neil clutched his pillow, and pulled it close to him, resting his head on it, hoping to cry himself to sleep.