Well, it happened, it struck again.  That demon that lurks under my third rib bone poked out his ugly head and took over.  His painful bites and stabs did what they were meant to do.  I spent days crying.  I sobbed till I ran out of breath.  My mouth grew into a permanent frown.  And my brain relented to the gaping maw that is my soul devouring my body and surrounding me with hopeless depression. 

Suicide is too good for this demon.

Then the cloud lifted a little.  My demon started getting tired.  He just didn’t have the energy to hold onto his complete domination of my spirit.  That gave enough space for the bunny rabbit of mania to hop into his place and fill me with the need to walk for miles, eat lots of popcorn, and clean everything from top to bottom.  Slowly, the cobwebs were swept from the bedroom corner and my brain.  The windows were thrown open.  Light filled me from the fourth rib bone on up and my demon was evicted into the cold wintery abyss.  

This is nothing new.  It’s all happened before.  It’s my cycle.  It’s the cycle.

Except, when that demon was munching on my sanity I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t there.  I couldn’t remember when I didn’t feel this oppressive sadness behind everything I did.  Waiting.  Lurking.  I was incredulous to find out, in between my protests of “It never goes away!  It never stops!” that most of the summer was spent manic.  I’d never been manic.  I’d never laughed.  How could I possibly felt anything but the desire to die a painful and quick death.  How could anyone find enjoyment in anything but pure oblivion?

I guess you do.

So the demon is gone.  He’s been kicked out.

And I hope he stays out.