As I write this, I am still struggling every day to pacify the darkness. However, I have been able to somehow rid it from my surface conscious. It resides somewhere layers down in my psyche and it could certainly come to the surface in a moments notice if I’m not careful. The tiniest stimuli could easily bring this all back, which is why I’ve lived a very simple life of isolation, where little to no stressors occur to bring about these thoughts. One may think that isolation would make it worse, but that is not the case.
That’s how these things work. The more these thoughts come to the surface of our conscious, the more we allow our mind to become connected to this other dimension. And with certain personality traits, those who are observant, sympathetic and free-spirited, this is where the struggle comes to play. Most people will remain oblivious to this, especially those who have never seen darkness in their life in the form of trauma, for example. They lack the sensitivity required. Once we have seen some kind of darkness in our lives, we understand it exists, we understand how it feels, as does the mind. I have seen this darkness in my life, and years after seeing it, my mind was hit with a way of dealing with it.
I live alone in a rather large house. It began with visual flashes of these amorphous.. creatures, which still hit me from time to time. They would push themselves against the glass doors as well as the windows of my house, of which are many. Their skin would press up against the glass, increasing in surface area of it, changing the color, taunting me to interact with them. With the shutting of my eyes, the tightening of my fist and thoughts of sanctuary, they would seem to go away. Remember that these were purely flashes of the imagination, I did not take them as a haunting or anything like that.
There is a lot of space in this house to be filled with hellish thoughts. I’ve had flashes of fire imagery as well as blurry beings gazing at me. After a few months of increasing paranoia, I realized that turning on the TV really helped me get through it. I would focus so hard on things like the Cooking Channel or sports, getting more involved with these things than I ever before was. When I really focus on these things, I only feel a vague sense of being watched, without the imagery or the sounds that sometimes come with these thoughts. I have a very specific TV schedule, where I would also make a lot of snacks and sometimes have beer. This became a ritual of my own.
It seems that being in the center of my house is more effective. When I attempt to distance myself up in a corner of the house, I begin to hear sounds. Perhaps this is my mind’s way of telling me not to run away from my problems, but I am long past the point of that. I hear footsteps walking towards the room I was in, as well as under me and above me. “They” seem to kind of leave me alone if I am in the dead center of my home.
A memory in which typing about is difficult, occurred in my bathroom one night. I was washing my face and I had a very strict regimen I followed in skin care at the time, even being a guy. I often felt a paranoid sense that something would come from behind me as I leaned over the sink to rinse, and do something like stab me in the back. However I could get over that and shrug it off. That month had been the first month where I officially did not go outside of the house all month, other than the porch for about an hour a day. I remember feeling as if I was the last person on the planet, I had not been in contact with anyone for a long time. No one was even trying to reach me, either.
As I looked up from splashing my third handful of water on my face. I no longer saw myself, or anything that resembled the bathroom in the mirror’s reflection. What I saw instead was a very dead, empty field behind me. It was as if all the life was sucked out of previously prolific farmland, covered in Gray and put into my mirror as if it were a painting. It was the most depressing thing I’d ever seen. I could not focus on myself in any sharpness. I was just a nauseating blur in that painting. The “painting” then faded into night, then blackness, then covering the entire area of the mirror faded in pale, featureless faces pushing against the mirror, as if it were glass and they were on the other side. They all began to scream. It was a deafening, high pitched sound. When I snapped out of it, there was dead silence other than the sink running and I was just looking at myself wide eyed in the mirror. I looked sickly. After about a minute of standing there in shock, I turned the sink off, put my night cremes on and went down to my living room, where I was sleeping from then on.
I often feel like I’m being looked down on whilst sleeping. From both the windows as well as tall beings looking down right next to me as I sleep. Cliche? Sure. But this fear has to be based off something primeval for humans, of which my mind has adopted. Sometimes they will be rapidly moving their mouths, but no sound is heard. Their emotions seem to change as the days pass and they come and go. The glare of the TV, which stays on all night, is the only thing that keeps me here.
Keep in mind, I almost never leave my home. Only to stock up on food, about once a month. I cannot handle being in public and only God knows how I actually function in public. I probably have a much different idea of how I act than how I actually act in reality. I don’t have much money left, I’m not sure where I’ll be in about a year. The house is not the cause of my problems. I will have to make a transition to get to a similar mindset, wherever I end up. These thoughts always stay with me in some way, shape or form and I’ll never be the same.
After 2 years of experiencing these haunting thoughts, I’ve been able to control them in a large way. This isn’t a ghost story, rather a look into a very damaged psyche, something that can happen to many people. I still don’t believe these are spirits, ghosts or creatures from hell. I think all of those things reside within us and for many, is trying to get out more and more every day.
A good friend of mine once told me many many years ago, We make our own hell. I no longer have friends, or anybody for that matter, but I wholeheartedly agree with him…