The monster within
I have always hated dark rooms; it is not the reason that I am afraid of the dark. I have always felt someone was waiting for me in a dark room, especially those with mirrors. Even if it wasn’t a dark room I have always felt it following me. I can’t help it, I know it must have seemed to you like an illusion that I am having. Was it? What was it anyway? I could never tell, and I never tried to find out. I have always been afraid of it.
When I was young I thought it might be a boogieman, a monster under your bed. As a teen I thought it was some lost sprit wondering, or maybe my ancestors. When I was an adult I simply reason it to the stressful life after effect. I know it’s not god nor is it a devil. God is great and so would never spy on me. The devil is usually represented by red. But I don’t see horns nor do I see evil eyes staring back at me in the dark
I have always at all cost tried to avoid the dark. I slept with lights on. Bath only when someone was home with me, stayed in a single room and avoided moving out of it as far a possible. I covered my blanket all the way to my temple when I am sleeping, had many pillows on my bed and switched on all lights at home when I am alone.
I have never liked to look into the mirrors. You must have thought that I am weird; a girl not fond of looking into a mirror often must be ugly beyond thoughts. Or maybe I was wrong, even an ugly girl might still see her self as pretty, isn’t it? After all beauty is in an eye of the beholder. What can I say?
Today I finally found out what was following me all this years. I wasn’t feeling well at all I came home with all those thoughts in my head. They had fully occupied me. As I walked into me room took out my earrings and for a moment, standing at my dressing table staring at the mirror in my room realizing that I had forgotten to switch on my room’s light. I let out a shrieking scream. It’s me along, what a fool I must have seen to you.
It’s me who I have been avoiding, all this while I have been trying to get everyone to like me, to be their best friend, a good daughter, a role model, and the top student in school. I have hidden apart of mine self and it will never leave me it keeps haunting me. It had never given up hope on me; trying to reach me at every opportunity it gets.
It has always been waiting for me. Hopping one day I will accept that part of me. I am the devil of myself. I was the one who plot my whole life out and watched as it plays. When the play fails I would simply rip it apart and plot a show within a show. It is I who I have been so afraid of. Funny, wouldn’t you say?
When I was at the age of 14 I had a dream, a nightmare would be a more suitable word to be used at that time. In the dream it was I who killed my self. In my eyes there were hatred, disappointment and a sense of joy, which lurks behind all of the intense animosity. A joy, that it finally got me after all these years.
I once came a crossed a saying, “Hatred is the vice of narrow souls; they feed it with all their littleness, and make it the pretext of base tyrannies”. I hated the feeling of being left out. I hated those who are loved and liked by others, and so I plotted my life and kept out the part of me that was unwanted in the dark. Just like a play, the show will always end and when the curtains close, it will always be there for me, just waiting patiently for my retribution.
When I was young I thought it might be a boogieman, a monster under your bed. As a teen I thought it was some lost sprit wondering, or maybe my ancestors. When I was an adult I simply reason it to the stressful life after effect. I know it’s not god nor is it a devil. God is great and so would never spy on me. The devil is usually represented by red. But I don’t see horns nor do I see evil eyes staring back at me in the dark
I have always at all cost tried to avoid the dark. I slept with lights on. Bath only when someone was home with me, stayed in a single room and avoided moving out of it as far a possible. I covered my blanket all the way to my temple when I am sleeping, had many pillows on my bed and switched on all lights at home when I am alone.
I have never liked to look into the mirrors. You must have thought that I am weird; a girl not fond of looking into a mirror often must be ugly beyond thoughts. Or maybe I was wrong, even an ugly girl might still see her self as pretty, isn’t it? After all beauty is in an eye of the beholder. What can I say?
Today I finally found out what was following me all this years. I wasn’t feeling well at all I came home with all those thoughts in my head. They had fully occupied me. As I walked into me room took out my earrings and for a moment, standing at my dressing table staring at the mirror in my room realizing that I had forgotten to switch on my room’s light. I let out a shrieking scream. It’s me along, what a fool I must have seen to you.
It’s me who I have been avoiding, all this while I have been trying to get everyone to like me, to be their best friend, a good daughter, a role model, and the top student in school. I have hidden apart of mine self and it will never leave me it keeps haunting me. It had never given up hope on me; trying to reach me at every opportunity it gets.
It has always been waiting for me. Hopping one day I will accept that part of me. I am the devil of myself. I was the one who plot my whole life out and watched as it plays. When the play fails I would simply rip it apart and plot a show within a show. It is I who I have been so afraid of. Funny, wouldn’t you say?
When I was at the age of 14 I had a dream, a nightmare would be a more suitable word to be used at that time. In the dream it was I who killed my self. In my eyes there were hatred, disappointment and a sense of joy, which lurks behind all of the intense animosity. A joy, that it finally got me after all these years.
I once came a crossed a saying, “Hatred is the vice of narrow souls; they feed it with all their littleness, and make it the pretext of base tyrannies”. I hated the feeling of being left out. I hated those who are loved and liked by others, and so I plotted my life and kept out the part of me that was unwanted in the dark. Just like a play, the show will always end and when the curtains close, it will always be there for me, just waiting patiently for my retribution.
posted by Staccato at 7:18 AM
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