I didn’t know the monster in my closet had a name.

It’s a lie… The monster doesn’t live in my closet, but just above my head… behind my back, and deep inside my chest. Some days it wraps itself around my ribs like a python, and others it fills my head. On those days I can’t tell where I end and it begins, my eyes turn black and my tongue splits, and I welcome the monster home.

On good days, it follows closely behind me, so close that I can feel it breathing down my neck, its arm digging through my ribcage, squeezing my heartbeat into drums.


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