Termites

I have a demon inside me that eats my happiness. It gnaws at my soul like a colony of termites that has finally reached the soft, pulpy interior of whatever it is they have infested, clicking and chewing without sleep.

The demon eats my happiness and makes me relive the past, thereby eating my future. It has grown fat and strong from my suffering, it's belly distended with my pain and raw emotion. I walk through the day like a zombie in search of something it has forgotten, for it's brain is rotten.

I don't sleep much.

I consulted an oracle in New Orleans and asked her how I could be rid of the demon. Her eyes grew wide and she made the sign of the evil eye at me, screaming in Creole, her skirts swirling around her bony brown legs as she ran from me. I took all the money from her cash register and bought rum, determined to drink the demon away. It didn't work, but now my picture is up in all of the New Orleans post offices.

I tried to make friends with the demon, thinking that if it saw me as human and understood how much it was hurting me that it would feel bad and leave. What a stupid idea that was. Humans are demon food. It just laughed at me while cleaning bits of my psyche from it's dirty, cracked teeth.

Just yesterday I Googled "Demon Cleansing" and found none of the links to be helpful. Sure, I like infernal porn as much as the next guy, but it was not what I wanted. I did bookmark it, though. Tomorrow I'll try Yahoo.