mike141216

Dealing with a difficult, almost impossible situation can go two ways: a bad one and a really shitty one. Depending on the day and the outcome of the dilemma one will find themselves in, things can end badly, horribly, extremely wrong, or plainly fucked up. At the end of the whole ordeal, it will not be surprising for that hero in our story, that individual who hurts in places not known to exist up to that point, to just want to curl into a blanket at the corner of the bed and not want to talk to anyone.

Was it anyone you just said? Like no friends, parents, acquaintances, that nice cleaning lady at the office that always greets you when you leave after hours because you had too much work?

Naah. There is always one person you want to talk to, one that quite possibly will not want to talk to you, but nonetheless you want to grab a phone, a piece of paper, something, and write to them from the bottom of your heart.

They’re not ideal, they are never there; maybe once in the past, perhaps twice.

It is the devil you know, the one your mind always runs back to. The one that has front and center in that confused, sad and full of sorrow brain of yours – without that devil even knowing it.

It will be the little things, the unusual sight on the side of a highway, that weird word you read on a signpost, this food you tried and totally hated it.

That poem from a person no one will ever remember, but gosh how the lines touch your heart.

The new leather-clad edition of your favorite magical book series, the one you know would look great on that devil’s bookcase, the one you would buy in an instant were that devil with you.

All the beautiful and ugly things in the world only come to life once you describe them to someone.

Not for just anyone, you are not a storyteller, and if you are, tonight you take a break. Tonight the wonders of the world would only become tangible if the devil you know would listen to them, would maybe crack a smile and that would be enough for your heart to skip a bit and the world to stop spinning for a split second.

The devil you know, idolized and trapped in a kaleidoscope of memories and fantasies, the one who could be thousands of miles away or just around the corner; for all they know distance doesn’t matter, it is the mind that is used to going there, it will cover the extra mile, and it will do so again and again.

It will be the looks that you miss, it will be a soft voice, a warm touch, perhaps a smell. People tend to forget first the sound of the voice of someone, our imagination covers that void. Yes there are video clips around, pictures upon pictures in social media. We are not allowed to forget anymore.

But see the devil you know always occupies a corner of your mind, be it 2020 or the Stone Age. And as the night reaches an end, as the dawn seems to creep up on you, you kind of wish you’d, for once, meet a person who would be the devil you’d know, but, at the same time, who would make your Hell a warm and cozy place for once. Not a frozen desolation with occasional gusts of lukewarm feelings.

Author: Michael Poe

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