The adventures of my Shadowman

What confused me

I always was confused whether he was me or if he was just some paranormal figure. That scared me a lot. If he was a ghost or demon or something. Everything just kept on racing through my head. He was me. He was not. How can someone feel their own "mind" how can someone let a supernatural figure be their guard, especially if he wasn't a nice one.

I wanted help.

I wouldn't ever tell anyone. He will come after me. He will always love me but, in order to show his love he has to hurt me. That's how this works. It's our bond.
Am I hurting myself?
Or is it some shadow?

I wanted help.

What did I do? 
I didn't tell anyone. I wrote. And I wrote about him.
I noticed. The more he hurt me the less he came back.
I was toughening up because of him that was his lesson.
About 1 year and 4 months later he was completely gone.
About 3 months later I started going to church. I was never a religious person before that. I still wasn't at the beginning but I slowly became one.
It scared me. Religion scared me. I was scared of their beliefs. I didn't believe. One night I was contemplating everything. I decided I was going to do some research to find out my question about Shadowman. Was he my mind or the supernatural.
I found out there are legends about a Shadowman. Except it didn't seem right. He wasn't like that. When I was researching these thing on my small little laptop it was only 11 pm. I automatically froze after I felt him stare at me. Stare at my back. What do I do.  I can't move.  He won't let me. If I do I die.
I was the most terrified I had ever been. I sat there frozen until 4 am. Crying my eyes out silently until I got up finally grabbed my headphones and went to bed.
The funny thing was I have never been afraid of death.
Never.
I still sat there in absolute fear thinking I was going to die with tears running down my cheeks.
I went to bed.

I wanted help.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I saw. I didn't know the difference between the facts and the fiction. 

My confusion grows: Was he real? Was he me? Was he still there for the same reason? Am I going insane?  Why can't I tell the difference between what's real and what's not?  I am so scared but, why?  I am not okay but, why?

I will never speak about him.

I will always speak about him.

He made me.
Did I make him? 

Why am I here doing this to myself?
Am I doing this to myself?
Can I ever get help?

I wanted help.
I am here. I am valid.
Is he?
What will I do once he is completely gone.
What will I do when he comes back?

I wanted help

I still want help.