Z0rr0wJoin Date: 2008-07-06
Post Count: 14027 |
The congregation of the faithful arose: hands folded in prayer, tongues moving in unison. They spoke of their regret and repentance for their sins, they spoke of God and the saints, they spoke words that would never be uttered when they left the four walls of the church. They all sat when ordered to, and the kindly priest when on to begin his reading of the Bible, then his interpretation of it in his homily.
I was sat at the front of this church. I did not rush to this seat, rather, I was invited and escorted here. I had chosen a seat towards the back in the beginning, but a friend of mine didn't want me to sit there. She addressed me by name. She said that she wanted me to come up to the front and sit with her. I was so quick to accept her invitation, I was so happy to know she cared for me enough to find and invite me to not be alone. I followed her to the front and sat to her left. This was my dearest, most cherished friend. The only helpful presence in my life.
Countless nights were spent with me crying as I texted her, lamenting the horrible beast that I knew lurked in the dark corners of my room. She was the only person to ever believe me when I told her about the monster. I remember the first text message I sent her, breaking the silence of a fallen-out friendship: "Allie, I can't take it. Please help me." She responded with poor grammar and a rich heart. She helped me through the dark. She helped me hold back that dreaded monster.
And now, I was sat with her in Mass. To her right was the ecru-skinned girl I loved, the girl who didn't even notice me. The girl with the slender limbs, brown eyes, brown hair, and faintly visible scar on her left cheek. My dear friend knew of my heart that yearned for requited love, for the impossible, for a fantasy. This beautiful girl, I once believed she cared for me. She loaned me her sweater once. Then I saw her loan it to another boy, and I was no longer special. I looked at this girl, and I looked further down the row. Directly to the right of my crush was a boy with pale skin and red hair.
As the priest spoke his homily, I saw the red-haired boy move from the corner of my eye. He touched my crush's knee. He made physical contact with the girl I loved so painfully. My friend, she must've seen it in my eyes. I won't forget her exact words. She nudged me and said something. I asked her to repeat.
"Smile. It releases endorphins."
I don't know if what she said was scientifically accurate. But I tried to smile. I really did. I couldn't. I saw another boy with pale skin, two seats to my left, look at me. Even with the eyes of a peer on me, I couldn't stop the rain from flowing down my own eyes. It was a singular moment of contact I saw occur, but in that moment I saw an infinite plane of intimacy that I would never experience in my life. And my friend, she was powerless in that moment to help me. I couldn't stop crying. I hated myself, I hated that red-haired boy, and I hated the thought of the monster I knew would visit me that night. That monster that, in my every waking moment of solitude, would torture and torment me and try to kill me. I spoke of the beast all the time. None but one believed me. I felt like a child.
That day I returned home and hurried to my room to cry. I cried my eyes out until I fell asleep. I awoke late at night, face-to-face with that horrible monster.
That terrible creature that lives in my heart and in my soul. That being of pure hatred towards me. I believed I was strong once, that even if this monster was real, I could defeat and destroy it. But I was wrong. Look now. This is a creature composed of the blackness in every man's heart. The beast would come to me every night. It was strongest when my heart was shattering. I could not run from it, I could only cry in the face of it. I was not strong enough to battle this horrible, formless creature.
"You fear me," the monster spoke.
"I do."
"You are not stronger than me."
"I am not."
"Hire someone to kill me."
"My mother and father do not believe in you."
"Get out of the house and spend time outside and away from me."
"You have locked the doors."
The monster smiled its wicked smile as its glowing eyes gazed into my watery ones.
"You know I can kill you whenever I want."
"I know."
"You know I have power over you."
"I know."
"Do you know that knowing a monster's name gives you power over it?"
"That is a myth."
"So you do know my name?"
"I do."
"What is my name?"
The monster stared into my soul, into my very being. This monster, this creature of unmentionable horror that could, at any moment, drive me to my death. This monster would almost certainly be blamed for killing me, but would not be hunted or arrested for it. At least with my death, its existence would be proven to the world. But I feared death, and I feared this terrible monster that haunted me wherever I went and clawed at me when I was alone and weak.
"What is my name?" the creature asked again, this time with greater ferocity, with greater force, with an intensity that made my eyes cry their horribly bitter tears again as I uttered the beast's name, knowing that this monster would never leave me.
"Depression." |