My windowsill monster

In all the days I've sat and watched other's lives go by, I never once thought to consider my future or my present. It's usually just my past sat across the windowsill from me forcing me to look away from the sunset outside the window and listen to the hurtful words and memories it throws at me.

My childhood was turbulent to say the least, my teenage years? Well, those aren't over quite yet but my early teen years definitely lay heavy on my mind. The contrast from then to now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and a longing to go back, even though I felt them the worst of what could be at the time. I'd spent the days ignoring my alarm to get up for school, instead choosing to roll over and close my eyes for the rest of the day. My parents used to assume I'd slept all day but I would close my eyes and create a whole new world, a whole new life for me, in my head. The best kind of days were the ones I could dream all day and ignore that heavy feeling in my chest and the monster on the windowsill but, sadly, everyone has to grow up at some point.

I flunked school, that much is probably a given. I changed secondary schools three times, even ended up in a specialist centre to see if it helped but I left there with no GCSE's. I did go to college, but I dropped out halfway through. That seems to be a running theme in my life, no commitment. No effort to give, no motivation, no desire, nothing. I'm in university now, lord knows how I got here but, once again, I'm facing the same issue. I struggle a lot with managing mental health and school, after years of not getting the help I needed I'm trying to repair the cracks it left and, as an adult, that's not easy. It's all so set in there I feel like I'm living six different lives and trying to fit them all into one body, one head. There's no consistency to my life, not anymore. Well, nothing but that monster on my windowsill.

You see, when I moved to university, he came with me too. Albeit and much smaller windowsill to sit on but he seems pretty happy there. To you, it probably sounds crazy that I talk about this monster following me around but I've found it easier to live with what's going on in my head if I turn it into a real thing I can change and move and see and talk to. My monster is everything. He's my regret, guilt, sadness, anger, the things that scare me and the things that I hate about myself and he sits, everyday, on that windowsill, blocking out the light until I ask him to move. I tend to try and pretend he's not there but, sometimes, I just need the light from that window so I have to talk to him, to ask him to move, and he always does ; talking to him comes with consequences though. Usually? Usually, he'll throw some of those feelings at me first. I'll spend a few days in the darkness unable to cope with his fee and then, it clears and so does he and I get that bit of light for a day, maybe a couple if I'm lucky before he sits back up on the windowsill and we go through the motions again.

To me, my life revolves around that monster and everything he is. I blame who I am on him, too. One day I'll get him off that windowsill for good, I know I will but I find I get too impatient too quickly and I end up mucking it all up. But I know I will, I have to, because that monster is a part of me and I know people don't stay the same forever.