Alone I sat, second grade confused and a pile of brokenness. Afraid to let people in, I remember waking up one day looking in the mirror and seeing myself as ugly. Only 8 years old I hated myself. My monsters weren’t the nightmares they were the thoughts in my head the silent screams I continually would hide. I lied so much to make myself be liked by the other children that I began to blur the lines between the truth and the made-up stories. I have this image in my head that has always stuck with me; it was morning and I recall walking outside to get in my mom’s car to go to school feeling so much dread but you could hear the birds chirping and the cars going by the sun was shining so bright you could feel the heat on your cheeks and for a second I forgot my sorrow, at that moment I learned how to hide it and so for years I went through bullying as it got worse so did my pain and I started taking it out on my self I started counting. One cut, Two cuts, Five cuts, ten cuts I lost track of it after thirty, and although the cuts weren’t deep in the physical sense they rested deep in the parts of my heart corroded by doubt. I never asked for help I guess it was given to me by someone who didn’t give it for my well being they made my cuts known to the school and did with the intention of hurting me and for a while, I was angry because I felt ashamed and I had gone so long without needing help I did not realize even if her intentions weren’t good ones, in the end, I was given the gift of seeking help. Although my pain still resides in me and every day is a battle I now control my monsters with therapy and medicine my monsters are no longer the big scary overbearing dark clouds that used to control my life and so this is the real-life story of a monster, my monster was doubt, depression, and suicidal thoughts but if I can come out better than I was before seeking help I hope other people like me take into consideration the after-effects of putting the time and effort of healing yourself and you never be completely okay and every day you will struggle it is possible and if at sixteen I no longer have the urge to hurt my self when most of my childhood those uncontrollable why can’t you? No one said it would be easy, but it’s worth it to be happy again.