Dancing with Demons

We all have our own personal demons that haunt us from time to time. Sometimes they pop up and say hello when we least need them to. Or we think we've gone all Buffy on them and they're gone only to return with a different face and a new set of weapons. Or sometimes we conjure them ourselves in order to provide some demented sense of continuity in our lives or to give us some familiar company when no one else will do. 
I had a conversation with a friend last week to this effect. The whole thing devolved into a mutual confession of the specific demons we keep around and we were surprised to discover that we shared more than a few of them. 
I fear one of my most staunch demons has been fiercely guarding this blog for months. It's the one who sneaks up as soon as I log in to write and whispers in my ear. "What have you got to say? You think nobody's thought of that a thousand times before? Why would anyone want to read that?" Yup. It's one I know all too well and I'm sure many do. So this week I've decided that if he's going to hang out with me, I'm going to expose him publicly for what he is. I'll take him out and waltz him around for all to see, so that in doing so, he might lose some of his sway.
 I picture this particular demon as a man in beige. Terrifying in his talent for being completely nondescript. That uninteresting negative void who sucks the creativity out of the room just by showing up with his well-combed hair (is it brown? blond? I can't remember exactly) and his plasticine average looks. He's not even evil enough to be interesting. 
So, strike up the band, we're going to take to the floor, my demon and I. I have things to write and the dizzying demon dance just might rattle a few of them loose.