Haunting reminders: Personal vexatious demon

We all have a demon. Deep within the chambers of everyone’s heart they fester and metastasize like a cancer. They are a subtle menace, a vexatious snare in one’s soul tearing at its core. Our iniquity is their main course, and our many weaknesses are their nectar. We convince ourselves that they are merely nonexistent figments, “boogeymen” stories to frighten children into subjection. When life is “normal” and “sunny” we forget them. Then they remind us…
I remember 14 like yesterday. I was skinny and short of self-confidence. No one had to tell me I was ugly because I already knew. Somewhere between Pookie the crackhead and Dwayne Wayne was me. I had friends but I never felt “with” the group. My reflection hated “its” reflection and my shadow was jealous of other shadows and kept its distance. I was only a shell of “self.”
There was one female I’ll never forget, as long as I live. We went to the same school, and for a while we went to the same church. Everytime she saw me she would smile and speak. BACK THEN, whenever a female spoke, my thoughts and words became flustered. All I would ever say in response was “Hi.”
One Sunday morning in worship service, she slid me a note. Basically it said that she thought I was very handsome, wanted to get to know me, and did I want to get to know her. I was stunned. It couldn’tve been real. Me, handsome?! I didn’t know how to respond to the letter because no female had EVER approached me like this. Besides, I thought, what could I possibly offer her? Without considering her feelings, I passed her back the letter, BLANK.
After that incident, I saw her again. As usual, she smiled and spoke. This time I only responded using the universal greeting (a half nod for those who don’t know). That was the last time I ever saw her.
A few Sundays later, during the church announcements, the speaker asked the church to keep the young lady’s family in their prayers. She had run away from home several days before. My heart melted. Immediately I thought back to the blank letter. As I slumped in the pew I thought about how I never attempted to hold a conversation with her, but how she always had a smile for me. Here was someone who saw something in me when I didn’t see anything in my self. I don’t think she was ever heard from again.
To this day I keep thinking to myself what would have happened if I had written one word on that letter. If I had just said “Yes” and had gotten to know her then maybe… She could’ve been my strength and my light. Maybe I could’ve been the same for her. After the fact, one always asks “what if.” She could’ve been my “answer.”