"Hey," said the Devil at my Door, "did you know that you could take your razor blade and jam it in your throat and die like right now?"
I set down my shaving razor and tried to push the little man on his way. I was getting sick of his twisted non-sequiturs whenever I tried to do anything. He was almost always there, and with just a quick knock would barge in with a horrid thought I didn't want. The medication helped, a little bit. I was feeling better than I was before, a bit less stressed and a bit less poor, but never once did it quell the Devil at my Door.
"Hey," he cried, a grin across his face, "I see you're driving. That's cool and all, but consider: you could take a right turn here, right into the lake."
I don't know when he started showing up. I don't even recall when the darkness clouded my world or when panic set in, but at least those I learned to deal with. They were large and oppressive, but never once did they seem out to get me. I remember what might have been his first appearance, at least. Just a year ago, with Jason. The film was Mad Max, and we were having fun. "Hey," the Devil said, "what would happen if you knocked over his popcorn?"
"He'd be mad and probably dump me," My inner voice said.
"Well, we'll never know unless you try," he bargained.
That was that. He had moved in next door, a troublesome neighbor that wouldn't leave, wouldn't go. Couldn't take a hint he wasn't wanted. Never did I want to see him again, never, ever more, but regardless, there stood, unwaveringly, the Devil at my Door.
"Hey, you're waiting for a train?" The Devil said with a smile, "And with a pretty new monthly ticket too! Wow, they don't put a gate in front of the rails? That means you could jump right onto the tracks, right?"
"Be gone," the inner voice cried, with terror in his eyes, "You wretched beast sewn from intrusive terrible tremors! Not wanted here, not welcome, a killer in disguise! A foul mouth whose can dispense naught but lies!"
"But wait," the Devil says, as if he's got the upper hand, "We're not done yet. What if... I'm right?"
What if he is? What if he is?
I wipe away a single tear and clench my fist as the train arrives. A wretched beast whose soul is far too poor... will I ever dispose of that Devil at my Door?728Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMnonB05WQr
