“The Monsters Under Your Bed” by Anonymous Teen

When I was five, I believed there were monsters under my bed; they were monsters consumed with darkness. They resembled wraiths and had no mercy; they were able to snap you into a million pieces, drag you into the darkness, and leave you with no way out. Back then, it would have been impossible to convince me otherwise. The thought of these monsters being merely in my head was absolutely preposterous. But like all things, we grew, the monsters and I, in perfect harmony. I was no longer afraid, I didn’t need someone to check under my bed, and I no longer believed monsters existed. 

We all know that it is unacceptable to believe in such things after a certain age. Monsters become a thing of the past, and if you’re lucky, they will stay there, but if you’re not, they will no longer live under your bed.

I must admit I was one of the unlucky ones. 

When my monsters come out to play, time passes ambiguously. It's impossible to fight back. They sneak up behind me and wrap their skeletal hands around my neck, gradually placing pressure and slowly cutting off my airways. They might want me dead, but they also want me to suffer, just like they did. 

Panic envelopes my body as their hands cover my mouth, stopping me from screaming out. I try to move, but I can not see; I’m being held back. Incoherent thoughts take over my mind. Electric jolts quickly radiate past my head and throughout my body. Darkness takes over my surroundings, consuming me and everything I’ve ever known. Feelings of hopelessness and worry pass through me like uncontrollable waves. I’m dying. I think to myself, I'm dying, I’m really dying; I cry as I feel fear take over, and my body gives in to what I can only describe as nothingness. After what feels like hours, my monsters get bored and retreat.

I never knew what to do during those moments; I mean, what are you supposed to do? How can a mere human, a mere child of nine years old, fight monsters, monsters that wanted nothing more than to watch them suffer? I wish I knew because I allowed these monsters to torture me, tear me apart, and leave me powerless. I reached out for help; I did, but when I told people of these monsters, they thought I was crazy; I was told that the world would see me as nothing more than unstable if I proceeded to discuss such things, so I stopped. And my monsters proliferated, their attacks transpired more frequently, and I would cling on to anything, hoping, just like my monsters, to gain some form of control. 

Over the years, I've learned ways to prevent the monsters from attacking. To stop them before they take over. But any method I acquired, the monsters would learn to overcome and use to their advantage, intensifying their attacks. Until one day, at the innocent age of ten, I found a way to make the monsters stop, make their screams and cries dematerialize into nothing more than silence. I would scratch them and fight back, leaving their bodies covered in scars and littered in the remembrance of the pain they’ve caused me. It made me feel ok. It transported me into the middle of nowhere. 

It was a place that made me feel safe, like I was the one in control; I would watch them try to get to me and pull me down from the air; It became something no one could take away from me. But It would only last for a few minutes before I would fall directly into the grasps of the monsters awaiting below. But I should have known it would be impossible to kill a monster with a piece of sliver, so after a long battle, I gave it up. 

I won’t lie to you; I’m lost; I don’t know how to fight my monsters, prevent their attacks, or even live with them, but I know it’s okay to be afraid. It is safe to say that I can now see that the idea of the monsters being scarcely in my head is no longer preposterous. The ones that

initially lived under my bed became inhabitants within my mind, transforming me into what I had always been afraid of. So to the unlucky ones, how old were you when you looked into the mirror and saw that your hands were now those of skeletal darkness? How old were you when you realized that the monsters that used to live under your bed were you, that their attacks were your mind, that their scars were your own, and that you longed for the control they had been trying to acquire since they were forced to move from under your bed? 

Although many people, including our parents, might not understand the monsters that haunt us, it’s something that we have and will continue to live with. Being haunted by monsters can feel like the end of the world, and sometimes, it is. It can make you do irrational things and act destructively. It can make you feel alone and like no one understands. And more times than not, they won’t understand because only the unlucky ones live with monsters that no longer live under their beds.