The Monster

How did I become this? How did I turn into this being that I can no longer recognize as myself, but only as a monster. The teacher says something about treating others respectfully. I can feel the blood rushing through to my head as my hands begin to sweat. I am guilty. And she knows it. I turn to the girl who I call my best friend, the one who always took control. She looks straight ahead; a poker face that looks as if the teacher just told her what two plus two was.

How did I become this? How did I turn into this being that I can no longer recognize as myself, but only as a monster. And some people, once broken a certain way, can never be restored. Like the imaginations we had as kids, the hearts we had as teens, and the minds we lost as adults. Who would’ve known that the beings God put on this earth would become fragments of a species that had potential. A species that could’ve saved each other and survived. But I have failed and I have broken in that certain way. I am forever scarred by no one but myself. I chose all the wrong things and made all the wrong decisions. I found pleasure in pain and that is what pushed me over the edge; that is what ruined me the most.

How did I become this? How did I turn into this being that I can no longer recognize as myself, but only as a monster. I look around at the people around me and see only hatred and jealousy. I see those who are not satisfied with all that they have, while others are satisfied with a metal spoon and crumbs. How did we go from pure, innocent beings of a holy garden to this? We are practically minions of the Devil; forever condemned to hell. I find myself always wanting what I don't have and leaving everything I already have in the dust. I watch people look at me like a monster because I take my life for granted and talk bad about my privileges and belongings.

We don’t deserve that Garden of Eden.You don’t deserve that garden. I don’t deserve that garden. The world we live in is beautiful, precisely because we witness the good and the bad. We are all separate people with all separate thoughts. We are beautiful creature. Humans. I think we’ve ruined our image. I am a human making human mistakes that have inhumane consequences. And as me, that is all I can do.

Christmas Decorations

I look around me and the only decorations I can recognize as my own, are the snow globes and my dancing Santa. Our tree looks sad without the familiar colorful ornaments that never really fit. Our tree looks wimpy, unlike the nine foot beauty I remember so well. My dad says that they were cheap Costco ornaments. But I say that they were memories.

Every single one of those ornaments was a part of me, and a part of my heart. I replace the batteries in the newer snow globe, the one I begged my mom for. I push the button as a ghost motor begins its work and colors explode within. I turn the key and the soft music box song begins to play.

I recall the days when I used to spend hours staring at that snow globe. Wondering about the little penguin who was decorating the tree and the polar bear's scarf. I wondered about the family inside and how happy everyone looked.

As I stare today, I begin to think about those ornaments and how this was the one thing I could hold onto as my own. As my piece of heart. In my heart I was a princess, bound by nothing and queen of it all. I was one with the animals and I painted with the colors of the wind.

But within my wonderland, the snow settles for the last time and colors blink out. The music slows and for a few more minutes I wait, daring the globe to stop. The music crawls and I brace myself for the last note to tell me that this was really over. But the last note never comes. I wait a little longer before realizing that the last note will not come.

I stand and slowly walk up the stairs with my ornaments still in mind. Into my bathroom, and I look myself in the mirror. I'm not sure who's looking back.

She's not the little girl I remember. I take out a makeup wipe and begin to rub away at my painted face until I am just a girl again. Nothing special. But once again I look into the mirror and the girl that I thought I would see is still not there. This is someone different. I've never met her.

I change into my pajamas and return to the mirror. But still, she's not here. I realize that I am gone. My childhood is gone.

Everything I know is gone and has disappeared and is not coming back. Now I am stuck in a body of a girl I do not know. For 14 years my mom has tucked me in every night. Maybe I'm too old, maybe I don't need it, but it's there; a constant comfort.

Tonight, she calls me princess from downstairs and asks if I need to be tucked in, or if she can just go right to bed. I told her no, I told her she can go to bed.

Now I know, the little girl in the photographs is gone. And I don't know who has replaced her. The tears begin to fall, along with every hope, dream, idea, memory, love, hate, life, that came with Talia.

When those ornaments were tossed into the trash, so was I. Somewhere along the line, I found myself at the day when I

took off my crown.

-t