Monster Named Boo

Today I am the monster. I guess I know what triggered it, and so far, it hasn't been pretty. I would like to think that everyone human being goes through this—we all experience the monster rising from the depths, bringing up all that shit that we just want to stay buried. You know, calm waters. But that can be dangerous. Burying can induce a serious case of "release the Kraken" blues.

But maybe some of us don't have this, the beast within. The beast that stays dormant, waiting for the most unlikely and inconsequential of things to awaken it. Those people, with no inner monster, are rare I'm sure.

Maybe some of us have the beast within, but refuse to let it surface, forcing it into suspended animation. If you are one of those, and can maintain a normal and healthy life, then more power to you. Because that ain't me.

My beast is pretty ghastly. It scares—no, terrifies me—into regretful actions, usually of the self-destructive nature. My darkness is pretty dark.

We often only show our beasts to those closest to us, and that is usually the worst part. Watching this dreadful scene unfold, the very people that you hold dearest being the first victims, knowing how awful it all is, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Like a slow motion car wreck.

Well, I want to tame my beast. I can't rid myself of it, and I don't know that I'd want to if I could. But I want to channel it. Often, I think that is the best we can hope for.

Channel the beast.