9/25/2005 02:31:00 AM|||MarcieCrim|||

My entire life I've been afraid of monsters. But they haven't been the sort of monsters that may have slime dripping from their limbs or the storybook creatures that frighten children by gnashing their terrible teeth...they have been monsters of the human kind.

My monsters didn't come out of closets, although I've always been scared of an open closet door. And they were too big to fit under my bed, but they made it inside my bedroom anyway. Inside my bedroom, inside my dreams, inside my failed relationships, inside my body, inside my perceptions, fears, and judgements, and inside the fabric of me.

There comes a point in life when the monsters die. For most I would imagine it comes with adulthood. With the wish to have the room dark while sleeping and exhaustion takes over any fear of the unknown shadows crawling across the ceiling.

Friday I put on a black dress and heels, lipgloss and a facade of strength to attend a funeral.

One of my monsters died.

|||112763117942329654|||Under the bed and In the closet