Patience

No, stop. Just wait one second. I want to give you something.

You see... Inside my chest lives a little demon. He lives in a cage. A long time ago this demon was a beautiful, magnificent angel. Full of love, good and virtue. But one day he got shot in the heart. His love turned into anger, good turned into spite and virtue turned into sin. But this demon still has good in him. He still has that beautiful grace that made him what he once was.

When I feel like this... This anger and confusion... I am just at loss of words. It's like one of my fibro-fogs. I wouldn't be surprised if I found myself having a cigarette downstairs, not knowing how I got there, leaving these words unfinished. I just can't hear the demon. It's like he's yelling what I should say, but I keep catching his blurred, incomprehensible, fifth or fourth echo. He's hitting the metal bars with his metal cup, screaming like a mental patient. I open my mouth, and yet the moment I do, nothing comes out and my mind goes blank.

I want to tell you that I am not a self centered bastard. I do not enjoy feeling sorry for myself and wallow in self pity. I am simply mourning. I am mourning for events that have happened beyond my control. Things I couldn't have stopped in any way. Silly things you might think. And yet they are the things that hurt me most. I give myself pity, because we both know no one else would. I wallow so I could feel sad. Then I get up and fight.

So I'm writing this to you here. On this piece of paper. The only place where my concentration graces me with its presence. Telling you how I feel and divulging my deepest, darkest secrets. I wanted to give you this paper. Put it in your hand. Inside of it you will find my body, heart and soul. Yes, the body is a little damaged from self abuse. Yes, the heart is broken. And yes, the soul is nowhere to be found.

But I know that if you could spare some patience. If you could give out some love. Maybe my heart would heal. And maybe my soul would come back to love my heart again. And maybe my demon would grow to be the angel it once was and give this world a taste of his grace again.

I give you this piece of paper because I have nothing else. And I do hope it would be enough. At least for now.