365 Prompts

Closed Doors

What's behind the door? Why is it closed? [Warning: Mentions of near self-harm. I recommend skipping this part if you are easily triggered.]

--

Interesting, the voice, something I recognise as part of my mind - detached but still so intimate - murmurs. A door you don't even know you created. My, my, I wonder what's behind it? It chuckles, predatory like in nature, and I feel my lips lift just the slightest.

In my mind's eye, this voice is like a playful cat; a wanton child used to stomping her foot and having treats brought to her at her behest. She is volatile and unpredictable, and I find that the best way to deal with it is to look at it as such. Nothing more than a voice inside my head.

I watch, as it tries to pry the door open. Pray it will not succeed. Feel myself hide away the fear that blooms in my chest when it tugs, and little bits of wood come loose from the door. I almost think that it will manage to open it when what progress has been made reverses itself, and the door slams back shut.

I mentally pat my walls, and purr smugly at the creature. Dear oh dear, two can play at this game, it seems

It snarls, and I smirk.

This time, it lashes out harder, forming itself into a sharp, slim dagger designed to slip past cracks in my defences; I simply sit back and watch, for iron cannot pass through obsidian, and I am a towering obsidian palace, gleaming in moonlight and darkening the daytimes. In a way, I muse, it represents my distaste for inability to get what I want. It is, after all, a part of me, and I never deny what makes me - well, me.

It does this again and again, until it finally gives up, and I direct harsh thoughts at it to make it stay. It will learn patience, and it will learn it fast or never see what lies behind my stone gates.

It nods grumpily, and I swiftly move to unlock the door it has found - I do not even need a key - the very touch of me sends it into a frenzied sort of humming, and it swings open for me to see.

And I understand why it has been hidden for so long, deep in a forgotten, dusty corner of my mind, covered in the cobwebs of memories long gone.

I see my demons, and like the opening of Pandora's amphora, they rush past me, and I can feel the physical manifestation of myself begin to crumble, seeing myself reach for the sharpened blades.

I see a light shining within and with all I can, I dash myself underneath the opening so that Hope can make its way out, keeping at bay the darkness, but I know better. With light comes a stronger type of shadow, and I know that the Hope in me will one day give out.

And, I intend to live my life with that Hope, because if I do not, then who will live my life for me?

I put down the scissors, blood spilling out from my wrists, but I know that today is not the Final Day.

Not today, and not ever.