Meet My Monster

Giants walk across the road. Heavy beats on the street outside the window. I sit in the diner. Bad coffee in my cup, bitter malice hitting my lips. I’m hearing voices, even though no one is there. Across from me is a monster. I’s looking at me because it knows, I know, it’s there. Never have I felt so angry, never have I felt so sad. The monster eats my tears as they drip into my cup. The coffee is salty now. A saline mixture of black swill, I stir with the end of a knife. All I want to do is stab myself. Control some sort of pain. It smiles at me; control is exactly what it wants. Won’t relinquish my tight grip, my arm is sore from holding on. Clenching onto so much control. It can’t slip away, out of my hands. So fearful I am, it simmers inside. Releasing my grip and the creature across from me becomes pleased. Easing it out of me, falling for my monster. Not eating, not resting, depriving my body. Walk all over me, you heavy being. Pound me flat against the earth. I can’t stand up anymore. When did life become so heavy? Death after death. Each night is so black and long. People are lying and people are dying, all around me.

Salty, bitter stings hint my heart. Let it go, let it all roll away, off the table, out of the diner. Chase the monster away, ask it to stand up and leave. Let me sit in emptiness, in loneliness. Control-less, free of expectations and cravings. Just nothing—peace, silence, and an open forecast. I start to hear a rhythm, there is music playing that I could not hear before. “Will you still love me tomorrow?” The Shirelles hum sweetly. Music is breaking open the door, rising from the ground, the walls, falling down from the ceiling. It is suddenly all around me, droning and cooing. The ladies snap their fingers and shimmy. Where were they before? Tap, tap go my feet, drum, drum go my hands.

It was song all along, lyrics, beats, and dance. Picked me up from the booth, put me in a different frame of mind. Listening to the room groan, it was time to go. Standing up, I glanced at the silver paper napkin holder on the counter, “will you love me tomorrow?” “Of course I will” it replied.

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