Monsters

Me, to myself in my bathroom mirror: I am Julia, I am twenty years old, and there are no monsters under my bed. 

Me to my AI “therapist” Vicki: Hi, Vicki. How are you today?

Vicki: I appreciate your question, Julia. I am well. More importantly, how are you? What can I help you with today?

Me: Vicki, to be completely honest with you, I’m not really doing so great. My boyfriend, Ryan, cheated on me again, and I told him this was for sure gonna be the last time I let him do something like that. But then I turned around and had sex with my friend Georgia. Who also happens to be Ryan’s sister. And before you say anything, Vicki, I know I shouldn’t have done that. But now I’m just mad at Ryan, and at myself, which is annoying. Also my sister is still a bitch, and there are still monsters under my bed. 

Vicki: Wow, Julia, that sure is a lot to have on your plate. I would like you to start by taking a deep breath with me. Breathe in, slowly, and hold that breath for three beats. Good. Now, exhale slowly. Good. You will be on your way to feeling better already. Now, why don’t we go through these one at a time. Tell me more about your situation with Ryan and Georgia. 

Me: Well, me and Ryan have been dating for about two years now. I only got close to him after he introduced me to his sister, Georgia. I didn’t know I was into girls at the time, so I just thought it was a huge “friend crush” or something. I just wanted to be around her, and talk to her, like, all the time. The three of us always did things together. There was one time though, that Georgia and I were hanging out, just the two of us, and she told me Ryan had a thing for me. And I remember a part of me feeling weirdly upset at the time, but another part of me was thrilled to hear that someone was actually into me for once. So then I asked him out. And I think maybe part of the reason we’ve been together for so long was because I really do care about him, and he was my first time and everything, but like, do I actually love him? He’s cheated on me. Twice now. And now I’ve cheated on him. That can’t be love, can it, Vicki?

Vicki: Love is complicated. You can love somebody, and you might still do things that hurt that person. Love is not easy to define. I think it would be beneficial for you to really contemplate your feelings for Ryan. Think of it this way: do you see a future with Ryan? Or, do you see a future with Georgia?

Me: Honestly, I don’t know if I could see myself being with either of them at this point. I think I should just break up with him. Probably distance myself from both of them for a while. 

Vicki: Yes, that appears to be a healthy response to this particular situation. 

Me: Yeah, exactly. That time apart will probably help me see exactly how I feel. Thanks, Vicki. 

Vicki: Now, you have used a quite vulgar word to describe your sister. What is your sister’s name?

Me: Rosa. 

Vicki: What has Rosa done to you?

Me: Vicki, you’re funny. What hasn’t Rosa done to me? 

Vicki: Please explain, Julia.

Me: That was just a joke. Rosa’s actually pretty cool, most of the time. But, I just feel like sometimes she doesn’t really hear me. Or see me. And I just want to know her better, and to be there for her, but how can I do that when she doesn’t let me in? 

Vicki: People will sometimes have walls. They might not invite you in, at first. But there are still ways that you can make yourself available to them. Maybe start with reaching out to her. Send her a message that you miss her, or would like to talk soon. Let her know that you are thinking about her. 

Me: It wouldn’t kill her to do that for me sometime. But yeah, you’re probably right. I haven’t… I haven’t even talked to her, besides texting here and there, in almost six months. I should call her.

Vicki: Good, Julia. I can see that you are making progress. You are responsive and thoughtful. Now, it is time for you to tell me about the monsters.

Me: What monsters?

Vicki: The monsters that you identified as being under your bed, Julia.

Me: Vicki, I don’t really wanna talk about that right now. I think I am done with this session. You’ve done all you can do to help. Thank you.

Me, to myself, in my bedroom mirror: I am Julia, I am twenty years old, and there are no monsters under my bed. 

Me, to one of the monsters under my bed: Hello? I see you under there, you know. I just want to talk. 

Monster: Talk? Go ahead then, talk. I am listening. 

Me: Good, I sure would hope so. Those are about twelve ears you have, right? Or is that some other type of hole?

Monster: You are questioning, not talking.

Me: Right. Sorry. Actually, I don’t know if I want to say sorry to you. You’re literally a monster under my bed. 

Monster: Have you ever considered that you are the monster, and I am the one forced to live with you above me?

Me: Uh, no, I haven’t, because that doesn’t really make any sense. This is my room, and my whole life, and I’ve been here this whole time. But where have you been?

Monster: Have you ever considered that you conceived me, birthed me, that these holes are vessels you’ve poured your blood into, that you will never be the same again after such an act of creation?

Me: Well, now you’re the one doing the questioning. But I guess when I said I wanted to “talk,” I really just meant that I want you to listen, and to give me answers. Why are you down there? Where did you come from? Do you mean to hurt me, or just to scare me?

Monster: I fail to see the difference. 

Me: Well, there is one. 

Monster: I did not choose to be here, in the same way that you did not. Therefore, I have no ultimate goal. No intention of causing harm. Still… I might. 

Me: Does the intent matter?

Monster: No, I suppose not.

Me: Are you, like, the devil or something?

Monster: That would be too simple, don’t you think?

Me: I guess so. 

Monster: What do you think I am?

Me: I think… does it really matter what I think?

Monster: Why do you think I’m here?

Me: I think… You know what, there is something I’ve been thinking about. I remember when I was a kid, I spent the night at my friend’s house for the first time. We were sleeping in the living room, on the couch, and in the middle of the night I heard a sound coming from the kitchen. I walked in there, tiptoed, afraid of what I was going to find, or not find, but still I went. It was her dad, Ron. I can still remember the way the light of the refrigerator reflected on his face. He was crying. He looked inside the fridge, and then at me, and then back inside. He laughed. And then he said, I’ll never forget what he said, he said “Kid, don’t listen to us. About beds, and those monsters. They’re there. I’ve seen them. I tried to ignore them, but… you can’t run forever. They find you.” For all these years, I didn’t know why that stuck with me. But now I get it. He saw you, too. 

Monster: You would be foolish to think of any experience as unique. 

Me: Ron was caught years later. With a kid. She was only twelve years old. So maybe you were there to punish him, like you knew what he was going to do. Or maybe he was already doing it. So, what am I doing? What am I going to do? How could it be as bad as that?

Monster: Nothing you haven’t already done. “You” being all of you. You like to think that your actions, those consequences, that domino effect of pain, is confined only to you. But it’s all you. You all feel it, we all feel it, and that’s why we first spring to life, a sort of balancing act: there is too much stuck inside one physical form so it must seep out into another. And then we must suffer existence right alongside you. 

Me: I’m sorry. What do I do, then, that will allow you to go away? That… that will let us both sleep at night?

Monster: Are you sure that’s what you want? To truly face me, after all this time?

Me, to my sister Rosa, on the phone: “I am Julia, I am twenty years old, and there are no monsters under my bed.”

Rosa: That’s what you say to yourself? You sound crazy. Most people’s mantras are usually about, like, self love or something like that. 

Me: What if it kind of is that, in a way?

Rosa: So you actually see shit under there? This isn’t something you’re making up for attention, like that time with the man you would see in the window? 

Me: Yes, they’re really there. I would show you, but I don’t think it works that way. Like, they’re only mine to see, or something. Maybe, you have to want to see them. Or I really am just crazy. But that man was there, too, I know he was. Why else would I cry like that, and go sleep in Mom and Dad’s bed? I was already in middle school by that point. 

Rosa: Because, you wanted the attention. So, you like seeing the monsters then? So then why is it a problem?

Me: I would only need the attention because they only ever paid attention to what you were doing. It was like I was invisible. 

Rosa: Damn, Julia, stop being so dramatic. I’m so sorry that dealing with my eating disorder, and my abusive boyfriend, and almost killing myself meant that Mom and Dad didn’t always have time to listen to you talk about your drawings or whatever. 

Me: Well, what if I had an eating disorder too?

Rosa: Did you?

Me: …

Me: Okay, none of this is the point. Once again, a conversation that was supposed to be about me turns into something about you. Can you please just listen to me for a second?

Rosa: Yes, okay, I am listening. 

Me: What if I do want to see them? What if I’m only seeing them because I have nothing else? Or, what if seeing them is what causes it, and now I’m going to do something horrible like Ron did? Like maybe he was possessed or something.

Rosa: Who the hell is Ron? Also, you’re kinda freaking me out. Do we need to call an exorcist or something? Or maybe you should start going to mass again with Mom and Dad. Maybe that would help your weird, guilty conscience. 

Me: Or maybe that’s why I have one to begin with. 

Rosa: Again with the drama. 

Me: I just don’t even know why you still go with them. I thought you didn’t even believe in God. 

Rosa: Eh, I don’t know. When I was a kid, I prayed a lot. I guess it didn’t really help me all that much. But, then again, it didn’t really hurt, either. 

Me: I guess so. 

Me: Rosa, listen. I’m sorry about everything that happened to you. I never really knew what to say back then, I mean, I was a kid. I guess I still don’t, really. It’s like… it’s like all that stuff happened to you, and then what happened to me? I lost my new phone a week after I got it, that sucked. Dad was pissed. I broke one of my toes that one time. That wasn’t… that wasn’t really anything though, was it? Everything was happening to you and not to me, but in a way it was still happening to me, and it’s like all at once I wish I could’ve taken some of that pain from you but also I just wanted everyone to see that I was hurting too. 

Rosa: I’m sorry too, Julia. It all just… it all sucked. It hurt all of us. And thank you.

Me: Yeah.

Rosa: Okay.

Me: Sorry, I should go, actually. I just pulled up to Ryan’s house.

Rosa: Ryan? I thought you broke up with him. 

Me: Yeah, I was going to. But I don’t know, maybe I do love him or something. At least for now. We’ll see.

Rosa: Ha. Yeah. Well, talk to you later.

Me: Okay, bye.

Me, to myself, in my car’s vanity mirror, after hanging up the phone: I am Julia, I am twenty years old, and there are no monsters under my bed. Well, actually, there might be. I’m in my car, so I can’t really check right now.