The Devil is in the Details…

And my mind is the Devil’s playground. Or perhaps more of a demon collection, for I prefer the phrase “a demon is in the details.”  Now please don’t misread this, for I will continue to use “devil” and/or “demon” interchangeable with “details” and vice versa.  This is meant for emphasis and literary puns, not to reminisce on the perpetual mental ghosts with which I live.   This interlude into my psyche is meant to explain a vital part of my personality, and not dig up my spiritual haunts, for I am a details person.

When I called my mind a collection of demons, I was not completely off my rocker.  Rather I admit to the massive quantity of details I store in my brain at one time.  I am a demon collector, for I remember almost everything I see, hear, or read.  Previously I have mentioned my capacity as an emotional sponge, collecting raw data on those around me, stashing it in the deepest darkest corners of my mind.  This is where my demon collection resides.  I cannot consider myself a demon hunter for I do not necessarily seek to gain these details but they never fail to stick to the shelves of my mental library.  These demons remain chained within my mind only by the willpower of not wishing to create an emotional catastrophe.  The temptation to release the inner demons does exist, not just so to speak, and it often feels like a losing battle.  Oh to be understood…

Very few people truly understand how my mind works.  Out of these, only one or two still talk to me on a regular basis.  Yet it really gets under my skin that rarely do people try to approach me with the right questions.  Just recently at a family gathering, I had relatives asked about how I was doing, not to my face, but to my siblings behind my back.  Is it really so hard to ask those questions to me personally?  If you ask me a specific question, you will get a specific answer.  This is why I hate small-talk, it’s all generalities and feel-good statements.  There is no place for concern and sympathy.  If you want me to tell you about a certain demon stuck on my shelf, then bring its call number and I will gladly reveal what it entails.  For I do not wish to keep my life a secret, I just do not strive to make it public either.  Hubris is the worst sort of pride, and I am proud of my humility…

That said maybe I do make myself hard to approach.  If I put on the gruff exterior, it is because I feel isolated, not threatened.  I might feel perfectly at home and comfortable but the scowl on my face might tell otherwise.  Want to know how I truly feel?  Look me in the eyes.  These eyes cannot lie, they portray my emotional state at all times.  For this reason, I often stare into space when troubled or look past someone when uncomfortable with the conversation.  I do this to keep my demons within, for the pain and suffering I feel is not something I would wish on anyone.  Am I humble for putting others’ emotional health before my own? Maybe. Am I proud for admitting so? Absolutely.  But that is another story for another time…

So which is worse, raising an unquenchable thirst for details that crams my brain full of things I wish I could forget or make them known and find everyone else has already forgotten?  Sometimes the smallest thing a person does makes the biggest memory.  You begin to realize this when love comes your way; that batted eye, that curved lip, and dimpled cheek.  Somehow they become demons of desire, trashing your knowledge store, haunting your database, and erasing all else.  The surface might not realize what the core accepts as true, this is also true in faith.  Deep down there is something inarguable about what I believe, even if I am unaware the extent of which I believe.  The fact of the matter is, the demon collector I have become will soon become a merchant of memories, using the mental currencies of months and years past to buy a brighter, happier tomorrow.  To those left behind, my apologizes, it would seem you didn’t mind the details like you should.  To the details I leave untouched, thank your maker that they do not need to face you again.  And to those who continue to hand their demons over, be mindful, because for every one I receive, I have two more to keep it company…




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Filed under Musings of a Meek Maniac

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