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The Monster and the Girl

The Monster

 I watch her running through the woods. The lower branches nearly slapping her to the ground. It's almost like she feels me, she hears me, she can sense my footsteps as I follow her.

 But I am like air, I am like dust, I am like mist. I am there but do I really exist? She stops on the pathway and I can see her pant, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her cheeks, thin long streaks, wet across her face. She is afraid and I am excited. I raise my hand to caress her head.

 She lets out a scream of frustration and starts her long run away from me, away from what she thinks I am. Monsters aren't real, are they? Monsters don't exist, do they? So do I really exist?


The Girl

 I run, as fast as I can, away through the wooded path. I've done this in a dream before and I cannot stop running because if I do, it will catch upto me. I can feel it getting closer, I can almost see its shadow, I can sense its presence getting closer. 

 My monster has claws that doesn't let go, my monster has teeth that grab on with too much force. I stop to catch my breath, the fight is too hard, the path is too long, the struggle is too real. I start to feel the tears coming. The tears I don't want it to see. Fear starts to surround me, it envelops me, and I feel it reaching over my shoulder. 

 I scream, out of frustration, I scream because I've had enough. I run, I run my long run, because I know my monster is real. I run through my treatment, I run through the pain, because I know at any minute, my depression would get me. Because no matter how hard I try to ignore it, it's a monster that exists.

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