What do you do with a monster inside yourself?
In fairytales, before you can slay it, you have to learn its name.
And the monster doesn’t want to give it up.
Namelessness is its forte; darkness is its shining armour.
My monster is a bottomless well.
Every day I stare into its depth, and I tell it I love it.
That’s the only thing that works against it, see.
Knowing that, no matter what, I’ll be back with my bucket full of love.
Every day, the monster has a different name.
Every day, I learn new words to call it out.
The first time we met, its name was hunger.
It was more scared than scary, wearing my face from the day I was denied a snack for not fitting into a dress as a little girl.
I didn’t love it then. So I tried to kill it.
The more I tried, the more it hurt.
I had to tell it I loved it a million times before it believed me.
But that’s the only thing that works, you see.
So I’m here now.
I love you.
What is your name?