Name thy Monsters

‘Crawl into my arms, Stupid Girl.’ whispers Insecurity to me.

‘For my arms are what you know,

What you remember

What feels familiar,

So my arms are where you shall go.’

I hesitate for a moment, feeling a warm glow

of betterment inside my gut, before Insecurity’s mane

Bursts into flames

Of irritation and impatience, she screeches,

‘There is nowhere else for you to go! Look around!

No one is here to claim you,

Come at once to me, before I leave too.’

So I crawl back to Insecurity, under her wretched spell. Her body is cold, and sharp and ugly, but it is better than no body at all.

She begins to play with my hair, I dissolve into her hold. But sporadic, sharp lurches of her grip as she angrily tugs at my roots prevent me from rest, each pull accompanied by a question that is more painful,

‘Why has your stutter returned? Don’t you want to be taken seriously, dear?’

‘Your skin is so bumpy, as though it is a dune buggy track! Do you not wish to look respectable?’ She attacks.

Ah! You came second, congratulations! Name an Olympic silver medalist, my dear! Oh, you cannot? Do not fret, neither can anyone else!’ She smirks as I silently sob, for she knows she has sucked all semblence of strength from my spirit.

A strong gust of wind awakens me! At last! Abandonment is here!

He takes no solid form, but rather is a series of gusts of wind, going and coming as though I am an airport terminal, excited to serve him and only him. He sweeps me off of my feet and away from Insecurity

‘Why the long face?’ Abandonment asks,

I begin to try to explain but before I know it, I fall flat on my ass,

He has lost interest! Vanished! Disappeared! Insecurity lulls me back, she is a little far and I cannot quite see her.

‘You were much too boring and much too nothing for him to care, my Dear.’

The warm glow grows into an orb without me intending for it to, a small and solid ball of resistance.

I look around for Insecurity but before I can again find her, I see self-doubt and self-pity walking with their arms linked and their steps synchronised,

‘Do you love me? For sure?’ Self-Doubt pleads.

‘No, love is too tiring for one entrenched in eternal pain.’ groans Self-Pity, already tearing up. But not about the pain she’s causing her other, but the fact that she is in this self-inflicted infinite tango of dread.

‘But, why not?’ Self-Doubt yelps, desperate to sculpt herself in any form necessary to please.

‘Because you are far too ugly, far too boring, far too weird, far too complicated for anyone to love you! For anyone to love us.’ Self-Pity replies, dragging her feet.

Self-Doubt explodes in raptures of tears, although quite hurt, enjoying the hurt!

For the safety of the familiar soothes in a temporary and toxic manner, like raw honey on a gushing and open wound.

I watch as the pair disappear,

Although now out of sight,

Most definitely not out of mind!

I almost forget about the orb, but it is an orb no longer! But a small flicker of flame upon a candle, dancing in its own genre.

Without warning, the floor turns to quicksand! I am unable to move, resist or fight back.

Even worse, I do not wish to, for a good girl earns approval not through rebellion but through a plastered smile and absent nods.

And how badly do I wish to win his approval.

This warm, all-consuming sludge that has so far eaten up to my knees is Resentment.

‘Why have you left me for so long? Again?’ He snarls.

‘You’re late! Just like your parents always are. You are absent, and you are too emotional. Can you begin to imagine my suffering?’ Resentment sobs, now consuming my torso.

I try to explain and sorry and soothe, but he does not hear of it, instead, continuing on his incessant anger.

So I give in and relax into the drowning, as it makes its way around my throat and up my neck.

I find solace in the idea that the loss of the Self is not a loss when the Self is not worth that of losing anything at all.

Alas! The flame in my belly has erupted into an all-consuming fire of the body, like that of the bush! My arteries burn of passion and my temples of resistance.

I explode!

Slivers of the slime of Resentment shake off of me and I become pieces of pottery, scattered along the landscapes of my tumultuous mind.

Self-Doubt and Self-Pity shake in a corner, afraid of the mighty supernova that has just occurred, Resentment is upset that I left him whilst he was in the middle of listing all my flaws and vows to never meet me again, (until next time.) Insecurity heaves and huffs upon my flames, trying to stomp them out and Abandonment pauses for a moment to watch the chaotic scene before waltzing away to chase

a meaningless dream.

But I do not care! For as much as these monsters plague me, they too are a sobering reminder that I am human. That I am a child becoming of a woman, a wretch transforming into a witch and a soldier turning into a warrior.

That I am not only in the process, but the very process itself and I am all and nothing and nothing at all and all but nothing.

The only way to defeat ones’ monsters is to

Name them.

And the only way to build oneself

Is to Break.