My Demons

“I can’t sleep,” I say.

“And why’s that,” John, my therapist, replies.

“I’m scared. I’m so so scared and the voices are getting louder too. I thought I healed. I thought I’m way past this, but I guess not. Help me understand why.”

He places his notepad on the desk in front of him and adjusts his glasses, “What do the voices say?”

“The same thing they always do! Do you want me to repeat myself just so that our session will last longer and you’d charge me more?”

John stays silent, holding my gaze.

I adjust in my seat and clear my throat, “I’m sorry, the lack of sleep and constant thoughts are getting to me.”

“It’s understandable. Take a deep breath and think. Tell me what those voices have told you in the past twenty four hours.”

I lean back into the seat, exhaling, and place my hands over my face.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel my brain trying to burst out of my head. Breathing is starting to become hard to do and the room feels so hot.

“I-“

I can’t find the words. Suddenly, I don’t know if I’m capable of constructing a proper sentence.

“Man, they say the same things the alway say. You know already.”

He stays silent.

“They say I’m a disappointment and disgrace. That I’ve made so many irreparable mistakes and I’m just better off dying to escape the shame. I mean, they’re not wrong,” my palms start getting wet with tears as a sniffle escapes my nose. “It’s all true because what was I thinking? Why did I act the way I did? It was so out of character for me, or was it my true character finally unraveling? The voices tell me no one would forgive me. How did I really get to this point? What comes over me when I do these things? This was supposed to be my turnover year! Everything was supposed to be smiling at me but I somehow managed to flip everything over, and I’m honestly so tired of myself.”

I take my hands off my face and streams of tears roll down my face. I look straight at John who’s staring right at me blankly.

“Do you believe those things? Think deeply before you answer the question.”

Do I believe them?

I lift my head to the ceiling and focus on the shiny glass chandelier and count the number of tiny bulbs hanging on it. One, two, three, four, five. They’re so tiny but it’s amazing how they’re able to light up this entire room. Then again, the white walls walls and huge windows might contribute too. Definitely.

Oh, he asked me a question.

“I’d like to be so delusional and say I don’t, but the facts are clear and I have to accept it. So, to answer your question, yes I do.”

“If you met a lady as kind and pure as Mary, the mother of Jesus, and heard she got raped, would you call her a bad person for harming her rapist?”

This man is going so off point! At this point, another wave of tears wants to come out, but this one is because of the realization of how much money I’ve wasted on this man. Did I even confirm that his license is real?

“Let’s end here for the day, can we?”

“Are you-“

“Yes. Same time Thursday,” I get up and walk out honestly doubting I’ll ever walk back into that office.

The fresh breeze blows on my face once I step onto the sidewalk outside the lobby. Well rested me would have loved this. He loves nature. Sleep deprived me just feels triggered by it and anything else. I could literally see an ant walking on the ground and be so pissed. I hate self medicating but at this point, it seems like my only option.

I walk a little longer to a pharmacy around the corner.

The thought of confessing burns my head. I know it would ease the burden. It would set me free, but am I ready to face the consequences? I’m not. I just need to find a way to find a solution but I can’t just think properly because I can’t damn sleep!

The bell above the door jingles as I push through it into the store. An old man with big round glasses sits behind a cash register at the far end of the store. I take a step then pause, then take another one and pause again. I don’t know, he just has the face of a very judgmental person, and you know old people can’t bite their tongue for nothing.

Come on, I’m a 25 year old man! I should have bigger balls than this.

I walk until I stop right in front of him.

“Sleeping pills?” he says.

My eyes pop out, “Wha-how did you know? Have you been in the business that long?”

“No, son, your eye bags have bags and those bags are expecting more bags soon,” he laughs.

“Oh,” I chuckle, “You’re right though. I need something to help me sleep.”

“Gimme a sec,” he turns and ravages through the shelves, turning back a few seconds later. “That will be four ninety nine.”

I search through my wallet for cash and pay him.

“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the bottle and quickly walking out.

I walk into my apartment and immediately I shut the door, a thought crosses my mind, but I almost immediately shut it down. A thought so terrific it sent shivers down my spine.

I inch closer to my living and get the sudden urge to sit on the floor.

I look at the bottle and the thought doesn’t seem as terrific as a few seconds ago.

“God, I’m so sorry,” I say, opening the bottle, but then throw it to the ground, some pills spilling out.

I can’t do it. I can’t!

But it’s going to save me from a lot.

Just then, the voices return, but this time around, they don’t sound pushy or aggressive; they sound convincing and inviting.

Getting on my knees, I move closer to the bottle and spill out the rest of the pills, picking them up, one by one, from the floor and swallowing.

I lose count of how many I’ve swallowed but it doesn’t take long for me to start feeling strange. I can feel it coming. The sleep that I found so hard to get these past days, I’m about to get it tenfold.