i met a man once who swore to me he could perform supernatural things and that he would. and that this would all be shown to me over the course of my lifetime. and i was to wait for these events to occur and i was to respond, as yin to yang, as light to darkness, as husband to wife.
the bullet to his head shattered these beliefs.
the narrative wasn’t fully shared to begin with. i wasn’t prepared to wait and who would be crazy enough to wait… and these things, all of these things, surely, were evil…were they not?
and i would ask my father and he would rage as he would preach and i would cower and i would pull the blankets over my barren shoulder as i recollected his haunted story about the suicidal demons attempting to lure me.
me, in particular.
pathetically, i’d sob as i attempted to bury the mental image of myself as, quite literally, demon bait.