Draft of the Demon Note:
I see now I shall never be rid of my demon. At the smallest provocation it starts approaching. It starts off slowly, a mere pinprick on the horizon, strolling languidly towards me. For a while I do not recognize it, and after a time much too short it appears clearly in my line of sight. It smiles in a way that is familiar yet so very unnerving. As I increase length of my stride my demon seems unfazed; it knows that I will eventually slip up, giving it an opportunity to catch up once more.
The time spent doing this dance of increasing and decreasing the distance between us does not matter. It always ends the same. Be it that the demon crosses the distance to me in leaps and bounds or in small, stealthy steps, it will reach me. And when it does, the consequences shall be catastrophic. Truly catastrophic, but only to me; even in my suffering I am alone against the demon.
It shall be upon me in a flurry of panic, a monsoon of tears. It shall take my breath away leaving me to emptily sob and heave, gasping for air in a space that it full of it. It shall leave me a husk, a shell, a discarded rag fully wrung out and exhausted.
Why does it torture me so? I toil endlessly to keep it at bay; learning, training, praying! Nothing helps. No one helps. It cannot be helped.
I cannot be helped.
But it leaves me alive afterwards. Saddened, distressed and shaken but very much alive. And after a while, when I catch my breath and can see again once my tears have stopped flowing, I get to gaze upon the face of my demon from up close for just a little while, and in its eyes I can find no malice. It seems as conflicted about it's own presence as I am distressed by it. My demon smiles at me, a smile I now recognize as apologetic, rather than unnerving.
I shall then reach out my hand, aiming to comfort, but with this small movement the spell will be broken and my demon will flee. The source of my distress and panic always flees at the smallest sign of kindness. And looking at the rapidly retreating back of my demon I shall whisper as I always do:
"I can help."
And my demon stays away, until I forget its face again, until I remember my fear again, and our dance begins anew.