December 19

Some mornings, right after I wake up, still sleepy, groggy and disillusioned, I convince myself that, "Maybe if you just pretend as if everything is okay, maybe if you just smile and laugh and make jokes and forget about all the shit you've had dumped on you, maybe if you just act as if you are happy, as if everything in your life is going as perfect as it could go, everything will be just fine."

Then, I get up out of bed, wipe my thinning, black hair out of my face and lift it up into a bun at the base of my neck, take a few steps toward my full, body-length mirror-hands down by my side, eyes searching my own for some sort of answer, trying to stop myself from looking down at my body, attempting to form a smile, trying my damn hardest to grab just one happy memory out from the inside of my mind. Then, tears begin to form, hot and stinging. Once again the cold, harsh truth hits like a punch to the stomach. "It doesn't work that way Adeline. It just doesn't fucking work like that."

Some days are easier than others, but most days, most for me, are not at all.

I can feel this creature growing inside of my chest. He is filling himself with anger. With my anger, is how he grows. Anger, betrayal, hatred. All of these things that I feel inside are feeding him, not food, and whatever he needs is what I eat. I cannot eat anger, betrayal or hatred. Those things can only be felt, and each time I feel those, I sense this creature growing. At first he was small, only a tiny seed. Now, quite rapidly, he is progressing. He wants out and sooner or later, he is going to get what he wants because the day will come when I will be too weak to hold him in. For now, I can clench my teeth, ball my hands into fists, cry. For now these things work. But even as I am typing, I can feel his blood beginning to fuse with mine, our thoughts becoming one and the same. Each day I feel as if it is becoming increasingly more difficult to distinguish his wants from my own.

He wont give up, and eventually, I will.