If you promise not to think I’m insane, I’ll let you in on something. Promise? Ok, good. Well, recently I’ve realised that there’s a spirit living inside of me. And I’m sure it’s female, as she’s so emotional. If these things have a gender that is. Hey, remember I made you promise not to think I’m mad? Actually, this spirit is what’s keeping me sane. I won’t say ghost or angel, as I don’t believe in things like that. I didn’t really accept the idea of spirits until this happened. Having one inside you kind of changes your mind about these things. Also calling it a ghost or an angel is too narrow a definition. I mean, I don’t think she’s a messenger from God or a dead person. But who knows if that’s really what ghosts and angels are anyway? That could just be the myth. Real angels possibly don’t have wings, look pretty and dress in white. And ghosts might not be milky apparitions that float about haunting people.
But I’m getting off the point. Let’s back to my spirit. How do you know she’s there, you crazy person? I guess that’s what you’re thinking now. The answer to that is quite simple really. I can feel her. Now that might not be enough for you, but hey, it’s plenty for me. On second thoughts, that’s possibly a little misleading. When I say I can feel her, I suppose that’s not strictly true, it’s more that I can sense her. It’s like something’s in me that’s not, well, me. And how I feel her is through me. She uses my body and its chemistry to communicate with me. She’s pretty clued up like that. The biggest issue with this whole thing is that she’s nocturnal, so lately I’ve had countless sleepless nights.
Here’s an average night for you. Ok, so I feel relaxed and ready for a night’s sleep. I put my book down and turn my bedside lamp off. I settle down under my duvet, put my head on my pillow and close my eyes waiting to drift into unconsciousness. When suddenly, out of nowhere, my heart starts beating so fast and hard that it’s like I’ve just finished the 100 metres, not the 4th chapter of my book. It’s so loud I don’t just feel it, I can hear it in my ears, and almost taste it for christ's sake. Really, it’s like there’s more than one heart beating. And it’s her, forcing me awake, as if she's got something really important to tell me. Or she just wants some company.
Before I knew it was her, this whole racing heartbeat thing used to freak me the hell out. I used to panic that there was something wrong with my body, that I was having a heart attack or something. Now I realise it’s her, it gives me comfort. I just wish she’d let me sleep more. I try and tell her this, reason with her, say that I’m tired and I have to get up for work in the morning. But like I said before, she’s emotional. She’s driven by emotions and doesn’t understand reason. I don’t think she understands words.
So instead of letting me sleep, she crawls up and down my chest, up and down, up and down, making me restless and uneasy as she produces these waves of anxiety. Usually I toss and turn, trying to distract myself. Then I think about stuff, try to solve the meaning of life or worry about losing my job and becoming a bum, anything big enough to take my mind off these intense feelings. Occasionally, sleep manages to pull me under, but then I wake up suddenly gasping for breath, as she drags me to the surface of consciousness with a surge of adrenaline.
I get bored of trying to sleep, of waiting till she’s finished telling me what she has to say. This is where my eyes spring open and soak up the darkness until I can make out the shapes of my bedroom. Except, have you noticed that your own wardrobe looks sinister in the dark? Mine takes on the appearance of an upright coffin, its door left slightly ajar, beckoning me in. Even though I’m sure it was closed when I went to bed. The darkness plays tricks on your mind, but they’re nothing compared to what she can do with your body.
At this point I’m beaten and resort to the only defence I have. I turn on the light. She hides almost immediately, or perhaps she rests when it’s light. Whatever happens to her, I’m in control of my body once more. I don’t think she leaves me altogether, as I can still feel the echoes of her presence. So I leave the light on, keeping her quiet. I read but I can’t concentrate, as my mind is still on her. So I end up reading reviews of trashy films I’ll never see, the horoscopes of everyone I know and what the latest fashion trends are. Like I give a shit.
If sleep still doesn’t take me away from her then, I get drunk. She doesn’t seem to like alcohol you see, or maybe she gets drunk too, I don’t know how it works with these supernatural beings. But she doesn’t bother me when my mind’s swimming with the blankness of booze. Look, I know this isn’t going to do me much good in the long run, but it’s the most pleasurable way of dealing with her at the time. I’m not a medium, psychic or psycho you know, so I’m a novice at this.
But the other night I tried something different. I decided that instead of fighting her, I should just attempt to listen. And yes, when I say listen, I mean hear. Like every couple who cohabits. As she communicates with emotions they're what I should be listening to, not ignoring them or blanking them out with booze. So that night, I went along with her. I lay there in the darkness as my heart pounded and the anxiety gripped my chest. It took all of my might to stay still and not turn away from her. But I kept motionless, staring up at the dark walls bending in over me, my ceiling light stretching out its black spider-like legs towards me and let the full force of her energy flow through me. I felt her rush into every gap, every hollow inside of me. Places I’d long forgotten. She filled me up and up with strong emotions until I thought I was going to explode.
And then they came, tumbling impatiently down my cheeks, hot, wet and furious. Mad at me for being kept in for so long. I hadn’t cried for years, not properly, not silently. The feelings got weaker as the tears flooded out, as if each one took a bit of them away. The next thing I knew it was morning, and I felt nothing. Well, not literally nothing, I guess I mean I didn’t feel tired or achy or dizzy or, or, or. Maybe this is how people feel when they say that cheesy line about feeling themselves again. The thing is, I’d had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.
Since then she still bothers me at night, but not as much as she used to. And even now I don’t really know what she’s trying to say to me, but I'm more in control of her. In fact, she’s beginning to feel like part of me.
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