T

By Amanda Ott -

Let. Me. Go.

I spent 7 years of my life screaming that to the shadow I always saw latched onto me,

even on the cloudiest of days.


I tried to hide from you, but how do you hide from something that’s plainly on your face every time you look in a mirror. Your dark shadowy fingers would caress the walls I built up to keep you out, but all it did was trap me in. You’d corner me, my fighting was useless. You’d win.


You always won, every battle you came out a victor, and I was left shameful hiding my face from anyone who came near.


I’ve been told that the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, if that’s true, what state

can you find my soul in when you crawl through broken windows. Dodging shards of

glass that are so jagged and sharp that just having an inch of skin exposed will result in

you turning around and running back home.


I don’t get to run back, this is my home.

You were real good at making sure I knew that.


T, it’s been roughly 5 years since you left me to go torture someone else. How do choose your victims? Did I just happen to pass your parasitic form emptying out the light of someone else and you just decided then and there that I’d be more fun to wreak havoc in? What sewer did you even crawl up from?


I’ve never personally met someone who’s come face to face with the soul sucking

presence you are, but I’ve met others who knew someone who knew you. Some of

them still carry you around, like a king, on their backs.


I’m not entirely sure why you left, but I’ve got a strong theory.


My life has been eons better since you detached your super glued tentacles from my

limp form. I’m free, most of the time at least.


Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of you slithering around a corner out of my

view, or diving under a bush, you even came and poked my shoulder blade once. That

was Brave of you.


Since you left, I’ve never seen you face to face. I’m ok with that. Why would I want your

foul and twisted face breathing hot and rank air into my being? I’m just better with you

gone.


T, if you were to look now, my windows are no longer broken. The sharp and jagged

edges have been smoothed, cracks have been filled, and the glass has been buffed and

shined. My home is complete without you in it.


I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I’m scared you’ll latch onto me again. That I’ll have to

relive those 7 years. But for now, you stay deep in the background rarely making an

appearance.


The crazy thing T, is that looking back, people were blind to the fact I was hauling you

around. The people who knew, well they had no idea how to get you off of me.

You let me go.


I don’t know why you did, but I was too hoarse from screaming at you for 7 years, to

whisper out a thank you.


So T, where ever you are, whoever you’re clawed onto now, I hope your reign of terror

will come to a halt. You won’t win any more battles, your shadowy fingers will fade, and

everyone will see you for the parasite you are.


I’m not going to say thank you for making me stronger, cause sometimes, I’m not sure if

you really did. I am glad that you’re gone though, cause If there’s really anything I

learned from you, it’s that I never want to see your crippled and distorted form knocking

at my windows, wanting to be let in, ever again.