monster. ~ spoken word.

I met a monster once,

I know it sounds stupid because the existence of monsters is what you believed aged one.

Unless you're a Harry Potter fan or a passionate player of Dungeons and Dragons then in the 'Nerds Manual' it is neatly scribed "MONSTERS ARE REAL" under chapter 2 subsection 9.

But this monster's different. 

This is a monster who placed all it's weight on my chest,

A monster who'd follow me everywhere and I'd know because just-just lightly on my neck I'd feel it's breath.

A monster who'd appear only briefly, not even for a second when I laid to rest.

But in the morning it's shadows my eyelids kept.

Yet.

It's face. 

It's face, its never shown. 

I wouldn't be able to describe it let alone put pen to paper,

because every time I called on it, this creatures features grew fainter.

Features I longed to see,

but what I learned to understand, this monster only appeared when it needed me.

So one night, I waited. I waited for this monster who'd appear only briefly not even for a second when I laid to rest. 

And within that millisecond I grabbed onto it for dear life, my target it's head.

I grabbed so hard my fingernails bled and in clumps it's hair began to shed. 

Then I caught a glimpse, a glimpse of a face impossible for me to ever forget. 

You know when you have a dream that you're falling and when you wake up there's a slight bounce on your bed?

now imagine that feeling but deep inside your chest.

my breathing grew heavy, my head beading with sweat. 

For I knew this monster. 

I knew this monster always put the teabag in first then the sugar.

I knew every morning when combing her hair this monster wished it was fuller.

I knew that 75% of the time this monster handed in her coursework late. 

I knew this monster was still single because she believes in fate. 

I knew this monster was very good at hiding her pain, 

but worst of all, 

worst of all, I knew this monster's name. 

~ Lukewarm Tea.

It’s as though her eyes are stuck to the paper, she doesn’t dare lift them off the page. She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear leaving her hands slightly moist. She doesn’t usually sweat this much, she uncomfortably wipes the liquid down her jeans. Her breathing hasn’t been so heavy, except the last time she got so drunk she ended up ---“wait, what the fuck, shut up, shut up, shut up” she whispers to herself. That’s a memory she can regret another day. There’s a shuffle of a chair and by human reaction her eyes dart towards the sound, damn, they’re all staring at her. She clears her throat then returns her gaze to the piece of paper containing her notes. She begins:

“Uhm….right, okay. You know when you get home and like there’s no one there? You have the house to yourself right, everyone likes a little alone time. But I mean—I like to drink tea. When I get home that is, after a long day. I have this favourite spot in my living room I like to sit in, so when I’m home alone I usually sit there and just think. I don’t think I ever have time within the day to really just stop and think. But there was this one time, I had just made my tea, switched the TV on and sat in my favourite spot. I got a text message but at the time I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but then my phone rang like 10 minutes after so I just assumed it was the person who texted me becoming inpatient. Stupidly, I answered, if you know me you know I hate pointless conversation and that’s all I ever get these days, words with no meaning. By the time the phone call was over and I was finally able to press the porcelain against my lips. It was lukewarm….lukewarm tea. Almost unsatisfactory, the best bit of my day was ruined. Now this probably seems pointless right? But I started to think, so just look at it this way. The phone call I just had was from a friend; well I’m not sure the term friend suits. So… this girl calls to tell me about yet another boy whose “used her and treated her like shit”, which only means she’s just been fucked and ducked yet again. She says she’s done with him but her words mean nothing because she’ll only get back with him tonight. Or the text I eventually read which was from my therapist, yeah yeah, no need to play Chinese whispers, we all know I’m pretty messed up but that’s not the point. My therapist, whose words mean nothing because he feeds me the same shit he probably tells the other 30 odd patients he sees—OH, and the best one yet, Miss ‘high expectations’ here telling me that if I don’t read this stupid essay in front of you dumb fucks I’ll fail the course, whose words also mean nothing because really she just needs me to do this so it doesn't seem as though she teaches us fuck all in our lessons. What I’m trying to say is, growing up I’ve been fed a lot of bullshit from the mouths’ of a lot of idiots and the shit they say do nothing but make my life….distasteful in fact I would say it’s become almost unsatisfactory. Due to this, my life is nothing but lukewarm tea and this my kind way of telling you all to shut the fuck up and let me enjoy it before it goes completely cold”.