Imagine a worm. A big, juicy, repulsive worm, long and dark and slippery with slime. Now imagine that same worm, but larger. In its size you are able to see- up close and personal- all of its vile flaws and slick skin. Now picture that worm as a ghost, a monster from the dark, intangible and infinitely more terrifying. The creature is surrounded by a halo of malevolence and wrath, cloaked in corruption and malice. That was the creature inside of me. All my life. I was born with it. It was my two-faced friend, a staunch supporter of whatever wickedness I felt inclined to do, and an ally of insanity. It was smaller when I was young, but as I grew, it grew as well. And it began to eat me away. When it had consumed my insides, leaving me hollow, it started to feed me its darkness to fill up the hole it had left. It drowned me in its essence until I learned to swallow, and enjoy the taste. When the darkness had filled me up, it made me mad, though at the time I didn't think I was mad. I thought… I don't know quite what I thought. Not precisely. I remember hatred and giddy intoxication; I was drunk and delusional with my own beloved darkness that I embraced with open arms. I loved it for centuries- it was my constant companion. It urged me to fulfill my wishes, and when I sometimes ran dry, it supplied me with fun, cruel ideas that I gratefully accepted. Centuries of this. And then I was captured imprisoned, and the darkness was ripped away from me. I screamed as it was forced to leave me, cried out against the sudden wind for my friend to return. But it wouldn't. It had been caged. And then I realized all that I had done, and I cried from horror when all my evil deeds returned to me. I made new friends. Better friends. But honestly, sometimes I feel that emptiness that calls out for my darkness. I try to fight it, to deny it, but the truth is: I miss it. I want it back.