AndieCrafts

I see a monster each and every day of my life. This monster lives in a place whose doors only I could open. I have an absolute undesire of seeing this monster, but I have no choice: I will see this monster for as long as either I or it will live.

I see a monster each and every day of my life. This monster is entirely pitiable. It has a body ten times as large as mine, but its strength is only equal to that of a mouse. It has eight wings, each of which are 3 times bigger than its body, but it cannot fly nor glide: it can only jump about 2 inches from the floor. It has eyes as big as those records my grandma used to listen to, but it cannot see what is in front of it: it can only see the past. It has teeth sharper, stronger, and scarier than those of a crocodile, paired with a jaw which could easily be pulverized by a mild breeze. It knows ultimately everything there is to know about the world, but its voice simply dissolves in the wind once it speaks. This monster could easily snap the entire universe into two by merely wishing it, but this monster simply does not have any free will.

This monster loves being seen by the world as much as I love seeing it. The only personal treasure it has, in the form of tragic solitude, is being disturbed by my persence, which I wish is transferable. The fragile values I have are being shaken by its presence, which I wish I could be blind to.

I see a monster each and every day of my life, for as long as either I or it will live. For as long this monster lives, so will I.

I see a monster each and every day of my life. I see this monster each and every day of my life, in the mirror.

I see a monster each and every day of my life. This monster is I.

I am hurting so bad. So bad, I need a blade to free me from my pains right now. I need to lock myself in a solitude so silent and cold, just to know I am alive: that somehow, I still have worth in the biological sense. I need to let the blood flow.

I am shaking from head to foot. I can barely breathe, and the tears are flowing like mad

I have to stop the tears from flowing, and start letting the blood do the tears’ job.

If this keeps on happening, I will soon be bleeding myself dry.