Me and My Self

Me and My Self

M.E.A

Chapter 1:

M stepped off the plane, his heart heavy with a sense of unease. The city he once called home felt different now—smaller, more confining. He hadn't seen his family in over a year, and while he should have been excited, all he felt was dread. His time abroad had changed him in ways he didn't fully understand.

The drive home was filled with his mother's questions and his father's silence. His mother, always the more emotional of the two, kept glancing at him from the front seat, her eyes filled with concern.

"You look so thin, M," she said, breaking the silence. "Are you eating enough? How was it... being away?"

"It was fine, Mom," M replied, forcing a smile. "Different, but fine."

His father cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Different? Well, now that you're back, it's time to focus on what's next. We need to discuss your plans—your career."

M shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that... I just need some time to figure things out."

"Give him a break, dear," his mother said gently. "He's just got home. Let him rest a bit."

"Time waits for no one," his father grumbled. "You've had plenty of rest."

M didn't respond. He stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, feeling more like a stranger than a returning son.

Chapter 2:

M lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. The posters on the walls, the cluttered desk, the soft hum of the night—it was all so familiar, yet he felt disconnected, like he didn't belong here anymore. His mind raced, replaying the events of the past few months. The failures, the disappointments, the growing darkness inside him.

"It's just in my head," he whispered to himself, almost as if testing the silence. "It's not real..."

"Real?" The voice emerged from the darkness, smooth and taunting. "What is real, M? The world you see? The lies you tell yourself? Or the truth that hides in the dark, waiting for you to acknowledge it?"

M sat up, startled, his breath quickening. "Shut up. You're not real. You're just a... a nightmare."

The voice laughed softly, a sinister sound that sent chills down M's spine. "A nightmare? Is that what you think I am? No, M, I'm much more than that. I'm the part of you that you've always ignored, the part that knows what you truly want."

M stood up, his fists clenched, trying to assert control. "I don't want anything from you. I'm not like you."

"Not like me? You can't escape me, M. I am you. I'm the voice that whispers when you're alone, the shadow that follows you. You've felt it, haven't you? The anger, the fear, the urge to just... let go."

M shook his head violently, as if trying to physically shake off the voice. "No! I won't listen to you! I'm in control. I'm in control..."

"Control?" The voice grew more insistent, almost seductive. "Is that what you call it? When you lashed out at your father, when you lied to your friend... was that control? Or was it me, guiding you, pushing you to be who you really are?"

M's voice cracked, the fear and anger mixing in his tone. "You're wrong! That wasn't me! It wasn't..."

"It was," the voice whispered, almost gently now. "And it felt good, didn't it? The power, the release. Don't fight it, M. Embrace it. Embrace me. Together, we can do things you've only dreamed of."