Dealing With Demons

Blanket.

A heavy blanket pulls me to the bed.
I try to pull it off but it won't budge.
Knowing the school day lingers ahead compels me to get up, even if I don't want to.
Blanket drapes himself over my shoulders.
Again, I try to pull him off but he's stuck there.
Three years, and he's still stuck there.

. . .

Blanket numbs my body, my mind, my soul. I don't feel joy with Blanket on.
Trudging to the bus shelter with Blanket and my heavy schoolbag makes me tired.
I fall asleep on the bus.

. . .

Blanket never leaves me at school. In fact, he grows heavier, especially in class and when I eat. Blanket gets so heavy my legs don't want to carry me anymore so I sit down.
Sometimes blanket doesn't let me eat, or I'll be halfway through a tasty sandwich and he makes me throw it out or up.
I don't like when Blanket makes me do that.

. . .

There are times where Blanket is light, where he's a comfortable weight.
I might be finishing an art piece or listening to my favourite songs and I'll notice I feel lighter.
But Blanket doesn't play nice for very long.
He'll suddenly pull down on my head, my neck, my shoulders, I'll slouch and take a deep breath, trying not to give into him whilst I'm in the school library at recess time.
Only a few more hours to go, you can do this.
Right?

. . .

Class time passes slower when I pay attention to Blanket.
I try not to but he just gets so heavy sometimes.
Pretending he's not there so the others don't notice is exhausting, too.
Now I'm tired again.
I fall asleep at my desk.

. . .

I lift my head from my books.
Through my squinted eyes I see shadows of people moving towards the door.
Second break of the day.
Blanket tells me not to eat my lunch.
I don't eat my lunch.

. . .

Blanket tells me to go somewhere else this time.
I listen and let him drag me to this little place outside the chapel.
It's a nice spot, it's calm and glittery with the sun sparkling on the glass roof.
Blanket likes this place, he gets lots of attention when I'm alone with him.

. . .

Blanket doesn't like it when I pay attention to the others.
He makes me keep secrets, he makes me tell lies.
Yes, I'm fine.
No, I don't want any food thank you.
No, I want to be by myself.
I don't, though.
Blanket makes me say that.
Blanket controls me.

. . .

Finally the last class of the day.
I've gotten used to Blanket by this time, all the good parts of the day that could have happened are over now so I don't care anymore.
Blanket is happy with that.

. . .

On the bus home now, I can plug my earphones in and drown out all of Blankets words and whispers.
Now I can't hear him and I feel better.
Until my bus pulls up at my stop and I have to take him home with me.
I slap on a fake smile for my family as Blanket dissolves the minuscule amount of peace I had.

. . .

I made it through the homework, I made it though dinner, I made it though the conversations on the couch, all without letting anyone see Blanket.
They haven't really met him.
I don't want them to.

Blanket is cruel.

I don't want anyone else to experience Blanket.

Now I lie in bed and blanket covers me again, stealing every last breath I have and making me sob silently into my pillow for the umpteenth time this month.
Sometimes Blanket doesn't make me cry, sometimes he just keeps me up.
Blanket doesn't let me go to sleep very easily, but..
Blanket likes it when I'm feeling tired.
Blanket likes to make me sleep.

Blanket wants to make me sleep forever.
But I'm not that lucky.