Prose that may be too bland or too blue;
Random stories that may or may not be true;
All penned by Alice in her times of loneliness;
They shall aid the mind and heart of the restless.
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I have to tell you something.
I live with someone.
Someone who makes me feel like I am walking on eggshells just by being around them. In my head and in the most intimate pages of this paper, I call him the “monster.” The monster loves many things. He loves to order me around like I am his personal assistant or housemaid. He loves giving me backhanded compliments. He loves giving me gifts and controlling the way I use those gifts afterward. He loves telling me to sit down because we will have a “talk.” And above all, the monster loves to see the flaws of the people around him while blatantly ignoring his own faults.
Everything I do has to be perfect and abide by the monster’s own set of rules, or else it would displease him big time. I remember one time when he ordered me to buy him a soda. The flavor he desired wasn’t available at the convenience store that day, so I had to buy a different one. When I got home, he was fuming. Livid. He called me names. Told me I was dumb. Useless. Told me I should realize that the “mistake” I made was bound to have consequences. I was left with no choice but to go back to the store and exchange the soda for another product. I never knew that something as trivial as the wrong flavor of a drink could make someone reveal their true colors.
I have to tell you something.
Do you live with someone?
If you live with your parents, your family, or your roommate, and you feel emotionally safe with them . . . if they never make you feel inferior, if they never threaten to hurt you, if their words are not as sharp as weapons, then you are lucky. Cherish that someone. Do not take them for granted. Because believe me when I say that you wouldn’t want to be with a monster like the one I am with now.
