The Demons of My Past

Everyone has one of these, don’t they? Demons of their past… Sounds so dark and poignant. Something only the male protagonist of a Mills and Boon novel can have. But let’s not knock it about, shall we? Because that was what they were like when my teeny tiny adolescent self was battling them. They were dark (not the racist kind), shape changing, with talons and fangs and, with glowering eyes. Compared to them, the “monsters” in my closet and under my bed were like the baby loony toons.

It was anti-climactic, the way I had one of the most crucial revelations in this short life of mine, and that was; Humans are the scariest species ever to walk to face of the Earth. Not the giant felines or canines. Nor the creatures of the night. Nor angels or demons. Why? Because animals only ever one side to themselves. There is a predictability to their behaviour. An angels is only meant to be the messenger of God and the symbol of goodness. And demons are only ever meant to be evil.

But humans are like onions; they have too many layers to them and they always make you cry. My demons were these onion-y humans. Only humans have the ability to change character and personality at will, putting on and discarding masks without a moment’s hesitation. It is only now that I find it fascinating, but back then I thought I was thrown in Hell.

Helping hands turned into taloned claws, smiles turned into mouths baring fangs, acknowledging eyes turned into cutting, judgemental glares that I couldn’t escape from. It was all too confusing to me as to why people were behaving the way they were when I had done nothing to them. I could never understand why the world was so intent on snuffing out innocence and goodness.

Ultimately, I was able to push through the maelstrom of malice and walk into the light scarred, bruised but freshly enlightened. However, though, I managed to get away from the part of my life, I began to hate my scars and the ones that inflicted them upon me. This hate later extrapolated to the human population in general.

I was okay with that, though. Not getting close to anyone, learning to loving to be alone with myself, and not depending upon anyone for anything- until I started college. When I came to Christ, I walked into a classroom of 100 young, bustling minds. 100 more people to hate. Yay! But as time progressed, I realized some people didn’t deserve the hate I was so blindly putting on them. Some claimed that I was important to them despite my prickly personality which got me thinking; was I really doing the right thing?

It didn’t take long for me to find an answer. I knew I had to leave the unpleasant memories of my past behind if I truly wanted to enjoy my present and my present. I gad give the people close to me a chance to get to know the real me and give myself the chance to get to know them. I had to be exempted from asking myself why I couldn’t handle the past with more sense, with more grace. Why wasn’t I grown up enough to face and fight the battle instead of running away and crying my eyes in a counselling room? Why was I so hung up on victim blaming?

Forgiveness is a difficult thing to achieve. To accept the fact that I was a victim and I had nothing to answer for, whilst at the time try to understand the motives of my demons and empathize with them was an idea not only foreign to me but it was also unthinkable.

To me forgiveness was weakness and absolutely unnecessary. The rage and mistrust that was birthed within as a result of my experiences in school, worked as a convenient wall and weapon that I could lash out with whenever boundaries were pushed. Sadly enough, I was aware of this, but sitting inside that wall, sizzling in my self-loathing and hatred, I found that I’d rather wallow in this unbearable yet familiar heat rather than explore the unfamiliar and the potentially/ hurtful world.

But in an anti-climactic turn of events, I find myself pondering over the articles I have to write for my assignments and all I can think of are my family and friends. Though I cannot say that I trust them with my heart, I can say that I give more than the benefit of doubt.

As for my demons, all I had to do was RIDDIKULUS!

The black shapes, talon and fangs morphed into fat, pink-cheeked naked cherubs that I blew kisses to from time to time.