The Devil Inside
The process is always the same.
It’s so familiar, it’s nearly routine.
We’ve danced this dance before, haven’t we?
I can predict your moves before you even make them.
I’m inside your head, and you’re in mine.
It nearly takes the fun out of things, being able to read each other so well, doesn’t it?
You sway to the left, and I instinctively sway along.
I knew you were going to do this.
I always know.
Yet I do nothing to stop it.
Is it because my survival is linked to yours?
Is it because, in ending your reign, I end mine along with it?
That’s the curse of a co-occupance situation.
Me and you, we’re stuck together. Like a metaphorical pair of Siamese twins.
Wherever you go, I shall go along. With or without my consent, I’ll be there.
There is no why, silly.
Me and you, we’re two sides to the same coin.
We’re mirror images of one another.
Not mirror images, no. It’s something else.
It’s like looking at your reflection in water.
It’s identical, but the ripples along the water’s surface show you something else.
Something that lurks deeper within.
Something you don’t get to see unless you want to look.
But we never want to look.
We never want to see what we’ve become, nor what we’ve done.
You call me for me when you’re alone, hoping that I’ll give you the solace and company that you long for.
But who are you calling for, if not for yourself?
You ask me to quench the fire that burns within you.
All you want from me is to be there. You want my time. You want my presence. You want my being. You want it all; even if it’s just for tonight.
But you’re so selfish, aren’t you?
You don’t care how I feel now. You don’t care how I’ll feel later. You only care about what you get out of it.
Tell me, did you even think to ask if I wanted to be there? I don’t think you would have, had I waited 100 years for you to do so.
You don’t care because for you, consequences do not exist.
Once you get what you wanted; there is no aftermath.
There is no destruction.
There’s no abyss.
There’s only what you wanted and what you got when you wanted it.
There’s only you.
You would never admit that we’re in this together.
You would never admit being at fault.
You’d prefer to forget that you’re culpable at all.
You don’t even see yourself as a culprit.
You’re always the victim.
You’d prefer that I forget that there’s anything in this for me at all.
I forget sometimes, that you’re the devil.
You’re the devil inside of me.