My Demon Mask

Is such a fancy nickname for her. It's a true one, cause she's my inner Demon and my horrible Mask, but still - it's a bit too fancy. I can also call her my Darkness, cause that's what she is - when you're using the term 'darkness' as in something bad. Actually, anything that can be labeled as bad can be used to name her.

Because she is everything bad in me. She's my anger, my hatred, my wrath. She's my sadness, my hurt, my bitterness. She's the result of every time someone have done me wrong, and every thing that has ever hurt me in any way. She's my fear. My loneliness. My feelings of not belonging, and of being worthless. She's the other side of me - my twisted reflection in the mirror - and she hates it.

She was the one that, in my childhood, chained me down. She told me that no one loved me, that they'd all leave me, because I wasn't who they wanted me to be. And so she carved out masks to put on, to become someone else, and she hid my true self deep down within my own mind, locking me so far away that I forgot I even existed. And so I stayed behind those masks, and let her be in control, because the actions and words of those around me proved that she was right. No one loved me, and they'd all leave me, unless I wore my masks and did as was expected of me.

I grew up like that, wearing masks and trying to be everything I'm not, and still getting hurt by those around me. Everyone whom ever told me that they loved me, ended up leaving me at some point. Even my own mother, although I know she never meant to, and I hold no grudge towards her because of it. She didn't really know how abandoned and afraid I felt, every time that phone rang.
"Your aunt's sick again, I have to go help."
"It's grandma, I have to go help."
"I have to go help."
Today they all claim that mum never did anything for them, and I hate them all for it because I'm the one who suffered because of their selfishness. She left me, all alone, with no one but my Mask that kept me in chains to watch over me, and an imaginary friend that did whatever she could to keep me company and help me stay sane. But she couldn't silence the words from my Mask, and so I sat there listening to her telling me that I wasn't loved. I wasn't good enough. Even my own mother left me, so how could I be good enough? And my father made me dozens of promises, and broke every single one of them. And he yelled. All the time. No matter what I did, it wasn't good enough, and he yelled at me. I fell out of the top of a bunkbed once, and I hurt myself so bad, but I had to keep the tears in because when he came to the room he just yelled at me for being so stupid that I managed to fall out when I was supposed to be sleeping. When he wasn't drinking, he was yelling, teaching me how worthless I was, and I was so afraid of him that I'd hide in my room and cry every time I knew I had to go be with him. And yet I loved him, because he was my father, and I wanted to be good enough so that he'd stop yelling at me, and so I sank even deeper down beneath those chains and let the Mask be in control.

I was bullied, and friends only liked me if I did what they asked me to, so my Mask made sure I always did what they wanted, and she let them all use me - both mentally as well as physically. And I kept going like that, always doing what everyone expected me to, to please everyone around me. When I grew old enough to fall in love, and have actual relationships, I kept up that act. I wore my Mask as best I could, trying to be everything they wanted me to be, because that's the only way I'd keep their love. And even then, they left me. And then I met my best friend, and my Mask adored her and everything about her. She became obsessed with her, and with pleasing her, and so she kept on carving more and more masks, to keep her happy so that she'd stay with us. No one fed my Mask as well as she did, in every possible way, because she wore Masks as well, and knew how to play them. It became a sick little game, between her and my Mask, and at this point I didn't even exist anymore. The concept of ME was forgotten, and the only one that mattered was my Mask - and her sickly obsession for that Ex of mine. Because she was obsessed with her. Loved her with all of her being, she did, and she was a devoted follower that whorshipped my Ex like a fantatic religious person whorships his/her God.

All through my teenage years, and most of my twenties, the Mask reigned. She sat like a Queen on her throne, carving more and more masks to ensure that no one could reach her - and discover that she was just a Mask hiding the real me. And she became so strong. And so cruel.

I don't know when it happened, but my Mask became a real person, and there was nothing good in her. She was selfish and self-absorbed, but more than anything she was angry. She hated the world with such a rage that scares me even to this day, and she wished so much harm upon everyone. But, oh, she was clever, and she hid that rage and that hatred. She searched for the right words and actions, to please those around her, so that she'd get what she wanted. And she used a part of me to do so.
She created a different me. She carved a mask that she worked so incredibly hard on, making out so many details, and that mask became a person; Magdalena. All of my insecurities and fears - and insanities - were put into her, and she existed for no other purpose than pleasing those around her. She apologized for her very existence, and cried herself to sleep because she feared she wouldn't be able to please every single person she ever met. My Mask steered Magdalena around like a little puppet, and looking back at it now makes my stomach turn.

My mind shattered, early on, though I have no idea exactly when that happened. A result of losing the real me, and having a Mask stay in control, perhaps. A Mask that only carved new masks to hide the truth, which burrowed me even deeper in a world of madness, creating alternate personalities as a way of dealing. I couldn't handle any of it, and my mind shattered. Although, one part of me believes that my mind was shattered to begin with, and that's how my Mask came to be. I honestly don't know what the truth really is, and at this point I doubt it even matters anymore. My mind has been shattered for so long that it's far beyond the point where it can be fixed. And no matter how skilled my Mask was at creating new masks and steering them around like puppets, she couldn't hide that shattered mind, and it tormented her just as much as it tormented me.

My mental health has been a chaotic mess pretty much all of my life.

But her. That Mask. She just kept growing stronger, and her hatred and her anger kept growing with her. She hated the world, she hated everyone in it, she hated the masks she made, she hated my shattered mind, and she hated me. But most of all, she hated herself. And so she kept on trying to destroy us, through suicide attempts and cruel words to make everyone hate us in hopes that they'd destroy us for her. And inbetween all that, she kept steering Magdalena around, in an attempt to have everyone love us so that we wouldn't be abandoned.

I was 24-25 when she finally reached the point where she couldn't hide away as that mastermind behind the masks, and she stepped out and claimed full control as herself. She took a name - Aswa - and proclaimed that she was the truth; the real me. And she repeated those lies of hers so many times that in the end she started beliving them. She couldn't even see the difference between the truth and the lies, and she lost herself to her own game. The puppeteer became a puppet. And then, when she lost the most important thing in her life - her precious obsession - she finally broke apart.

One last attempt at ending our life was done, because she couldn't take it any more, but it only resulted in breaking my chains. It woke me up - the one she had hidden away - and I slowly started stretching, reaching out to be a part of the world again. That day, that last attempt at ending everything and finding peace in death, the 11th of November 2011, I thought she died - that she killed herself, and that I helped erase her through my awakening. It's been 4 years, and I can finally see how wrong we've been, and what the truth really is.

I can't kill her. I can't destroy her. I can't erase her.

She is a part of me, and I can't erase myself.

You were my Mask. You chained me down and hid me away. You played tricks and lies, carving masks to stay in control, and you unknowingly kept feeding your own anger and hatred. You're that twisted reflection in my mirror that I never managed to identify - until now. You let everyone use me, hoping that it would please your twisted desires, and you chained my hands so that I could not fight back. You created illusions, for those around you as well as yourself, and with each new mask you created, you dug even deeper into our grave. All you wanted was death or destruction, because it became the only thing you knew, and although you kept silent around everyone else, I could hear your screams all the way down to the depths of our soul. You're so hurt. So alone, and so bitter, and you've turned your back on everything because it's so much easier than having to face it. I know you hate me, but I also know that you hate yourself even more.

I am done fighting you.

I am done going on like this, constantly fighting with the hope that one of us will win, leaving the other to be erased. It's not going to be like that, and deep down you know it. If the fight is "won", we both die. I know that is what you want - that death is the only thing you think can set things right - but no matter how far down I may have been dragged, I have no intention of dying. Death won't fix anything - it'll just make it all so much worse. Besides, how can you know what's there on the other side? You're just clinging on to a stupid hope, still carving those masks of yours and hanging them neatly on the picture of what Death really is.

I know you're angry! So am I! All that hurt, all that hate in you - it's in me too!

You made me this way. You and everything else we've been through, it shattered my head and broke me, like a doll falling apart at the seams. You played me like a puppet, because you wanted to ignore the truth - that the puppet was you.

Well, look at us now.

I broke - shattered into pieces - but the pieced turned into something else. Voices in my head, alternate versions of me, multiple personalities. I broke, but I'm still here. We're all still here. And you're standing there on your own, refusing to see that you've been wrong. You keep screaming, fighting, praying for death, but you need to stop. Stop. Just stop, just for a second, and look at us.

We're not alone. We're all in this together, and you're a part of that.
I won't fight you anymore. I'll embrace you, and all that you are.
I'll learn to love you.

And, eventually, I'll learn to love myself, and all that we are.