Why am I here?
When did I last write down my personal thoughts?
I don’t remember.
I used to keep a diary for a very long time. Somewhere in the meantime I forgot how to verbalize my feelings and thoughts. After that I forgot how to express them through all the artistic activities I had been performing.
And after that I stopped talking about emotions. I stopped talking about anything that wasn’t emotionally indifferent. I stopped listening to people talking about such things. I stopped crying. And I also stopped enjoying. I became an emotional vegetable.
I functioned like this for another couple of years. I made the biggest effort to deceive myself, because it wasn’t difficult to deceive others. Oh joy, Black Cat is happy, finally, they kept saying. They still do. I think I even was for a while. My demons were carefully buried and asleep. It was good to not feel watched by my demons for quite a while.
They woke up. They started to dig their way up to the surface and yell for attention. I couldn’t keep them hidden from myself forever. When they are digging, the pain seems almost… physical.
I’ve got a friend.
Not a lover. There is only one lover. And the friend… simply is. He’s with me all the time. He says that when he feels me hurting he comes over and strokes my head or holds my hand for a while, over a distance. I can feel his presence all the time. He appears in my dreams, when I dream of danger.
But he also made me dig out all my demons at once and now I can’t get a hold of any of them!
Why am I here?
To catch all the demons one by one and kill them, because writing clears my thoughts, helps me understand, makes me realize things, helps the thoughts out of the chaos. When a problem is unverbalized it’s very difficult to solve. I don’t want to talk to people about my problems. They have enough problems of their own, they don’t need mine. I’d be unhappy if I gave them that burden. I can’t speak, so therefore I write.
