Boogeyman

I spent most of my childhood being assured there was no monster under my bed.

That my closet door won’t open on its own.

That the sound I heard was the window, and the shapes I saw were shadows.

Just my mind playing tricks on me.

Now as an adult, I struggle to get out of bed, fearing what the outside has in store for me today.

I stare into my closet at my wardrobe, knowing full well none of these clothes represent who I really am, wanting just to stay in and not go out.

The whispered voice in my ear telling me “you’re not good enough” plays like a skipping record

The shadows that follow me peer around every corner, every doorway, every car that drives by.

These are more than mere tricks.

My mind was the monster all along.