I saw my shadow laid out before me on the wall, and it was bigger than me, and frightened of itself. When it began to run, I dragged it back and sewed it back on in a ****** mess. Sometimes you pin to yourself the things that scare you the most, because at least fear is a black-or-white emotion. Sometimes I walk through the darkness inside my own home, and sometimes I trip and stumble on furniture edges and shoes near the doorway that were forgotten. I walk around and around, my eyes never fully adjusting to the darkness, but around and around I go. Because it is the only time in my fleeting existence where I don’t think about who I am, for I am too preoccupied with the paranoia in my head that there might be demons forever watching me. Occasionally, they chase me up my stairs on their hands and feet, growling and snarling obscenities unimaginable to anyone else except for inside my own head. I wonder what would happen if one day I made it to my room too late and they caught me. I wonder what the insides of other people’s heads look like.