The reasons I left untold
So many times my knees have touched the ground and my body has arched over them as if praying to the God I ran away from many years ago. In my head a chacophony of demons and devils cursing in their angelic little voices. My chest exploding with all the air I can’t exhale, while my nails make deep valleys in the earth and then leave dirt trails all over my arms. Anxiety ripping through every part of me, pushing me to the ground like a paperweight.
I never told anyone the whole truth about why I stopped drinking and partying over there. Not about the time I sat down on the concrete by the entrance of a house soaked in despair and drunken disorderliness and felt my defenses crumbling as the tsunami of panic and anxiety flooded my helpless body and my hands shook like the earthquake that had caused it.
I kind of told about the time before that. How her friend sat on top of me pushing my wrists further into the duvet, while I writhed and kicked and begged him to let me go and throw up. He helped me, he defended me against the demons when I had given up. After an hour I was in control and we went to bed on separate mattresses, so he turned me sideways and fucked me. Taking the payment he felt he was due.
I didn’t tell about the time when I folded down on the lawn in front of the house during another oh-what-a-party, dripping in the shame of not being able to control the chaos inside my head. They shook me, held me, pulled me up and eventually I resurfaced out of sheer self disgust. That was when I decided I couldn’t do it anymore; things were spiraling out of control and it was scary. It was scary how quickly my walls, my defenses crumbled when I was drunk.
It’s still scary. It’s frightening. I can still feel them swirling deep down there, under the murky surface of my mind. My demons are like candyfloss, but not pink. Wispy, sickly sweet and they leave sticky trails on my hands whenever I pick them up to consume them. But I wouldn’t collapse nowadays. I don’t think. I just lick the candyfloss off the cone without touching it.