Here's another piece of creative writing that I wrote back in February. It's quite different from the other fragments I wrote so I hesitated to post it and eventually forgot about it altogether, but I decided I should finally post it before the year ends.

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He follows me everywhere. All day. Every day. Most of the time, he just stands somewhere in the background where I can see him from the corner of my eyes. I might hear him breath or whisper something in my ear from time to time. That’s when it’s easy to ignore him or even forget about him for a bit. But sometimes he stands right in front of me and screams and won’t leave me alone. Then he’s the only thing I can focus on.

I can’t just close my eyes or hold my ears when I want him to disappear. If I could, I might never open my eyes again. But doing that doesn’t help. I don’t have to see him. In fact, I can’t actually see him to begin with. I feel him. He doesn’t always touch me, but I know that he’s there. I feel his presence and that’s exhausting. It’s like even when he’s quiet, I can never relax 100%. Sometimes I just want to be left alone, you know?

On the other hand, there’s also something weirdly comforting about knowing that I’ll never be completely alone. When I’m lonely, he’s always there keeping me company. He stands somewhere in the room, and most of the time he comes closer when I’m feeling down. He doesn’t help a lot, but he seems to be trying. He seems to care about me. He puts his arms around me and tells me stories. Maybe he doesn’t realize that he’s part of the problem.

While I can’t physically see or hear him, I can feel his touch. I like being touched but not by him. His touch is uncomfortable. It tingles and itches like a million tiny bugs crawling all over my skin. And since I can’t see him, I never know when and where he’ll touch me. That can be scary. But again, I don’t think he knows. I think all he sees is my loneliness. He might just want to help.

Actually, I pity him. He’s quite anxious himself. Maybe he follows me because he’s scared of being alone. Maybe he’s the one that needs help. No one else can interact with him. No one else even knows of his existence. Normally, I don’t speak about him. I know that what he does isn’t my fault, but nonetheless, I feel responsible for him. I’m uncomfortable with the thought of others knowing about all this. Sometimes I’m wondering if I’m adding to his and ultimately my loneliness.

He scares me. A lot. I get nervous when he comes near. Sometimes I even start panicking. I know that there’s no reason to, but the things he says and does are unsettling. I think he wants to protect me, but I’m not always sure if his worries are justified. He’s very convincing. While I often doubt him, I almost exclusively end up listening to him. Hearing his voice means trouble, but what if he’s the only voice that speaks to me?

I want to hate him, but I can’t help but love him. I don’t like when he’s there, yet I feel like I would miss him if he were to disappear forever. I wouldn’t wish the burden that he is on anyone else, but sometimes I can’t help but feel special because he chose me. He's rather shy. He tends to hide when other people are around. His life must be tough. He’s like an abusive friend going through a dark time. You can't let go of them because and you know that they’re not like that on purpose. You want to help them when you know exactly that you can’t. And so, they just drag you into that dark hole with them.

I know it isn’t right to let that happen. I know I’m being way too nice to him. Maybe I’m twisting his intentions for the better - he can be quite cruel, after all. Yet, I can’t tell you what I would do if I could get rid of him by simply snapping my fingers. It would feel like betrayal. I don’t know what life without him would feel like, either. He’s all I know. In fact, it’s hard to imagine that the vast majority of people doesn’t have someone like him in their life. I’m really curious what that feels like, but I have to admit that I’m also glad I won’t find out. I could probably distance myself from him with some work, but I’d rather take the constant discomfort than the initial pain that doing this work would mean – as pathetic as that might be.

And so, I just live with him. I accept him because he’s the only one to accept me. I can’t let go. I’m afraid of letting go because losing him means losing the last bit of company I have left.