Monsters
Monsters
“I wish it were as simple as shadows beneath the bed, as easy as locking the closet door. But the paths I’ve walked are darker than childhood fears—they lead where nightmares barely dare.”
The paths I’ve walked are darker than childhood fears—they reveal a side of life that nightmares barely touch. These weren’t the monsters we learned to chase away; these crept in through choices, small and unassuming, until they grew teeth, sharp and relentless, gnawing at the edges of everything I thought I was.
The darkness doesn’t announce itself; it seeps in quietly, slipping into life without fanfare. It isn’t always a big, monstrous evil but often the slow creep of small choices, repeated over time, until they twist into something unrecognizable. These urges, these shadows—they latch onto desires, needs, even a sense of failure, twisting intentions until they no longer feel like mine. But just as these dark forces crept in, there was a quiet presence, a hand pulling me back from the edge time and again, a hidden strength, though I didn’t know to name it then.
I’ve seen how easy it is to sacrifice others—or myself—for something that feels urgent in the moment, only to haunt me later, a decision that doesn’t feel like my own. Temptation doesn’t come as a monster; instead, it whispers, nudges—just one more step, just one more rationalization. Looking back, I see choices I made that led me further from who I wanted to be. They weren’t grand or obvious, just decisions made in moments of doubt, small steps that shifted the ground beneath me without my realizing it. And even in those moments, when it seemed I was falling beyond reach, I felt something unseen hold steady.
Yet, just as there were hidden evils, there were also angels with swords, unseen but steady, forces that held their ground within me. Whether they were actual angels, some quiet force, or the drive instilled long before I knew what addiction was, I don’t know. But in those dark moments, something kept me from completely falling. That presence, that inner strength, is what I cling to now. While the darkness can press in, I know there’s something equally resilient, something just as fierce, ready to rise and push back. This presence, this inner strength, reminds me that while shadows press close, there’s a force in me that refuses to surrender, a voice whispering, ‘Not yet, not here.’
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