Everyone at school said they adored me. They all said I had a beautiful, perfect life. Rumors spread that many of the girls envied my life, my style, my relationship, me. Yeah, I had style- designer sunglasses, designer bags and jeans, wide-known clothing brands, and I also had an amazing boyfriend of 7 months. He was perfect to me. I guess you can say that was to cover up my problems. My friends, even the ones closest to me, never realized my secrets I kept. So many people have said they want my life, but I tell them they’re wrong. They say I am crazy. I tell them they’re the crazy ones.

I walk the halls with people always by my side. We walk with confidence, always smiling and giving people hugs; always having compliments coming our way. I at least always have Dillon beside me. I’m never in solitude. Nobody thinks that I avoid it; they just think I’m a popular, friendly person, which hopefully will stay that way. Because even though I’m constantly riding with the monster when I’m alone, that doesn’t mean I technically enjoy it.

Whenever I’m alone, stranded, or left out, I tend to take a ride with the monster. I’ll start having horrid anxiety attacks, but I refuse my medication. My parents don’t know that. I just flight it down the toilet or dump it out. The last time my dad almost caught me dumping my meds out, I lied and said I was flushing old bath salts. Neither my mom nor my dad brought it up.

I head for my purse in my locker, and then I walk frantically into an empty bathroom in an empty stall tightly holding a piece of rolled up Mother Nature. This is when my mind and body relaxes; everything becoming colorfully cloudy. It’s like entering a roller-coaster. It’s one of the worst and best experiences. I feel like this is the only way I can continue to breathe- especially when I’m trying to sleep.

I’ll wake up drenched in a cold sweat suffering from reoccurring, gorgeously frightful nightmare always ending in my death. Beautiful creates make me fall under their spells. Next thing I know, I’m running in circles in an unknown nowhere. They capture me, bring me down, and tear me down. I scream in pain, but I scream in pleasure. These creatures tear and rip my flesh off my body, throwing it in flames. I watch in terror, but I watch in enjoyment. I’ll be screaming in excruciating agony, but this beautifully creepy, stunning disease sucks the voice straight from my body. Then they continue to rip me from piece to piece- devouring me. I can feel myself laughing as I die; continuing to fade from life. Soon, all I can see is blood dripping- sharp teeth, conniving smiles floating in the dark. That’s the last thing my mind remembers until I wake up with fear running up and down my body.

I don’t feel alone. They’re still with me. I can feel their evil eyes glaring at me; piercing through my soul while I sit in my cold bed, drenched in darkness. I start to choke- choking on absolute nothingness. I’m scared, afraid this is the night I’m going to die. I can feel it deep within my bones- another anxiety attack bubbling inside of me.

I can feel my body shaking and trembling. My body is covered in goose bumps. So, I slip out of the only place I feel somewhat safe and put on my fuzzy slippers. Every step is icy cold with creaks as I walk across the floor. Everything is soaked in darkness blinding me. My hand guides me across the smooth wall. I make a turn, and my hand finally hits something. I turn on the lights of my bathroom. I shut the door quietly, hoping to not disturb anything else in the house. I close the lid of the toilet and I open up the cabinet under the sink, and close it with my right hand while my left hand firmly holds my sweet escape. I sit on the lid of the toilet. I can feel the coldness of the seat through my thin pajama pants. I set a fire sparking my escape to hide from my demons- or so I hope. I’m finally at the point where every limb and nerve in my body is loose and I have no sense of direction. Everything is hazy. I try to walk a few steps without falling over just so I can lock the door of my bathroom. Stumbling back to where I was once before, I tumble over, head first into my porcelain bathtub. I fall hard. I sense warmth coming from my head. I get even more light-headed than before. I fall into an undisturbed, deep sleep.

I wake up in my tub with dried blood across my face. I wash myself, dress myself, and make myself look perfect again, and head for school. My friends address me with, “Hey! You look stunning today, just like usual. How did you sleep? Did you do that homework?” I always answer them with the same old answers, “Hey. Thanks, I try. You look great too. Is that a new top? I slept amazing. We had homework to do?” Dillon flatters me with the same line, “Hey, you look beautiful babe.” He kisses me passionately, and then tells me how lucky he is. “You are the best. I love you,” I answer back to him.

My parents don’t care about me, so they know nothing that goes on. They just care about my grades and that I’m not being a floozy. They interrogate me often. “Are you doing drugs?”

“No.”

“If we find out you are, you are so dead. It will ruin your whole life.”

“I’m not doing drugs.”

“Why do your eyes look that way?”

“I’m tired.”

“You’re always going to parties.”

“I’m a social person.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you thought about the pill?”

“Stop.”

“Start doing your homework.”

“I will.”

“Stop lying to us.”

“I’m not.”

“Go to your room. Or go get some exercise.”

“Okay.”

Every day I pray that my beautifully hideous demons will keep away, but they never do. I know they’re stronger than I am. I feel them watching me every second of every minute of every hour of every day. I hope that nobody finds out my secrets. I’m normal though. I know I am. I promise myself I am. I feel normal once I hang out with the monster. I think I act normal. Nobody notices any white or green dust that has flaked onto my clothes. No one everyone says anything to me. Nobody hears about my night troubles. Everyone says I’m perfect. So that means nothing is wrong with me. Right?
I. Know. I’m. Normal. There’s. Nothing. Wrong. With. Me. I. Don’t. Have. Issues.