The Devil Within Me

I am still gripped by this old fucker, his hands wrapped tightly around my soul. For a few months there I thought he had left me, that I had found a quiet escape route and managed to slink away unharmed. I was wrong. The demon wrath was just quietly sleeping while I wrestled in the darkness with the demon depression.

The demon wrath is back.

I have never found a good way to deal with him. He screams chaos inside my head at all hours of the night, nudges me out of bed in the morning with the good idea to get out there and hurt somebody, he tucks me into bed at night with sweet dreams of destruction. He guides me, tenderly, lovingly, through my waking days, and I can feel myself crumbling beneath him. This constant war against him, which I guess is just a war against myself. Entropy is increasing, and I am withering away on the sidelines.

Wake up in the morning. Everything is a wreck. Everything feels like a wreck. I try to justify myself to myself, but these excuses are anemic and faltering beneath the heat of my own breath.

What happens to me. I have always wondered this. Where am I supposed to go. What am I supposed to do. In earlier times, I would be burned at the stake. Drawn and quartered. Locked up and tortured. But I live in a world of these so called freedoms, and if there’s anything I can do, it’s hold onto these false freedoms that somehow still imprison me. I would like to be truly free with me and my demons, but I’m pretty sure no one else wants that for me. I don’t even know what that would look like.

Instead, I only know what it looks like to be here, halfway into this half free world, and failing. Waiting patiently for my demise. Watching as the building I am sitting in starts falling to the ground. I know that no one wants me here. I know that no one can stand to be around me.

Where I am supposed to go. I am here, now, and somehow that’s not good enough. I know I am supposed to be quiet, to be contained, but the wildness within me has outstripped even my own best intentions.

I came here years ago because this was supposed to be the place that I could be free: Oakland. Oh, and I was madly in love with Oakland, too. We were perfect together, me in my rein of terror and Oakland without it’s pretensions or guise of laws or social decorum. We were wonderful.

But Oakland has changed, and I remain the same. I hate to admit that I have fallen out of love with my best friend. That a city is what defined me and my sense of safety and belonging. All of a sudden I am too crazy for Oakland. Oakland no longer wants me. And I am lost to wonder the desert, just me and my demons, looking constantly for a home but still never being able to leave.

No, I cannot admit to myself quite yet that things are not working out with me and Oakland. And it’s not Oakland, it’s me.

Where the fuck am I supposed to go. I have tried being someone else for so long, and that has never worked. This is it. This just is who I am now.

Am I supposed to die? I wonder that at times. It seems like the world wants to tacitly tell me yes, even though, let’s be honest, I tried that one time and it didn’t work.

I am a spiritual expatriate from the Kingdom of Heaven in Oakland, California. I am a monster with no home. The beast on my back is crushing me, but not enough to kill me. I am a human with no comfort and no peace. It is just me and my devil, cruising through this planet, looking for a place that cannot be destroyed by the chaos we bring.

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