Lost at nineteen


At first, I thought allowing this dominant demon within me to swallow me whole was the way to go. I thought, maybe the dark side’s my calling: to defy the norm and make myself too unavailable to the ordinary. So I went on and on finding people with the same level of darkness as me. As the days and months went by, I found these people who assent the growth of my horns. Thinking that it’s normal, I kept the heat flowing and the flames ascending. I thought that maybe I’d understand myself better if I’d embrace this feeling and nurture it until the time of my life.

And a day came to me and introduced me to this person, whom my demon embraced; not quite surprisingly, he embraced back. Our demons collided and made a small, dark, and thick bubble around us which in time suffocated us both– fighting for our breath, fighting for our life, fighting for our love,
we found ourselves fighting with each other.

Now if there is any way to calm this beast, I found out that there’s none– if I stay; and so I thought, I should find a way to get myself out of the bubble; that I should leave. But what kind of demon would surrender? What kind of demon would give up? What kind of demon would let itself lose? That kind of demon is weak; and I am not weak. Maybe that’s why I let myself into this bubble once again and tried to push him out instead.

I wanted him weak,
I wanted him fragile and broken,
I wanted him to feel pain,
I wanted him to feel small,
I wanted him to leave–

and I wanted him to lose.

All because I know if he stayed, he’ll be left alone inside the bubble and run out of breath.
All because I know feeling a doze of pain is much better than feeling nothing at all.
All because I know he’d recover and I won’t.

All because I know.

I know.

I know.

The only thing that I don’t know is,

what kind of demon would let itself die,

for a love that can, and will never be denied?

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