It is always the same thing. I wake up in a sweat, panting. It is so hard to breathe. I just want to breathe… why won’t you let me breathe?

It has always been the same thing, ever since I was a child. There was always a monster under my bed. It wouldn’t let me sleep. It would scratch at the floor. The claws were always out and ready to attack; ready to come for me. My flesh would heat up; I would burn up. I’d feel it getting closer. I’d want to escape, but there was never an escape.

It is still the same thing now, twenty years later. The monster has made its way on to my bed. He tears at my flesh, trying to get inside. I want to scream, but I cannot. It is too dark, I am not sure my voice even exists anymore. The monster has no trouble with his voice… I can’t remember it having one before. It is all nonsense though, I can’t make anything out of it. This monster in my bed… this beast; I could never love this best, though he may love me. I want to escape, but there is no escape.