Everywhere I go, it watches in darkness, hiding in alleys and dimly lit cul-de-sacs. It preys upon my humanity, knowing eventually I will hit crisis as we all do. And when I do, it lumbers toward me.
I try to keep a tough exterior as it slowly wraps its claws around me. My stoicism only adds to the ever-increasing weight. I feel like I’m sinking in a suit of armor in the middle of the Bermuda triangle.
Do I cry, scream, burst into a fit of rage, or maybe all of the above? As I slowly drown, I feel myself dragged deeper into the void. Everything starts to go hazy as my thoughts run in lopsided circles and I can feel my body begin to shut down even though my mind’s still on a marathon and I’m not sure what to do at this point and I’m not sure when it will stop and I hope it will end soon and I keep telling myself to snap out of it but I just can’t and I feel powerless to even move even though I know I should reach out and then –
It’s scurried back into its room as quickly as it arrived. I’m not even sure what’s in there anymore; The light went out some time ago, and I’m too scared to go in there alone. I do what I can to keep that room locked up. I get out of the house, I get lost in my hobbies, hang out with friends, and anything else that will keep it at bay.
I’ve been told that hiring a professional is the only way to go at this point, and, while I’ve been putting it off, I’m finally having someone come around the house to check it out soon.
That’s still some time away, so for now I’ll sit on the edge of trepidation, facing towards a future of new tools and locks. And when it comes again, I know I won’t go without a fight.