The Monster Who Visits Me at 3 A.M.

It`s 3 a.m. the devil`s hours for some, and maybe for me too.

The hour when my brain won`t let me rest.

When the demons of my own self-hate crawl out of whatever corner I shoved them into.

The hour when insomnia stops being sleeplessness and becomes something alive.

3 a.m. haunts me.

3 a.m. again and again, like the night is stuck on a loop.

And the shadows are always there.

I can feel them.

I can feel the way they watch me.

And they don`t just watch me.

They judge me.

I think a dogmatic, religious demon would almost be better.

At least those demons consume you.

They don`t judge you.

They don`t remind you every night at 3 a.m. that you are nothing.

At 3 a.m., my mask is off.

At 3 a.m., the pain is real, not covered by the daylight makeup I use to camouflage everything I can`t admit.

At 3 a.m., my thoughts don`t whisper.

They scream.

They claw.

They circle.

All I want is for someone, anyone to reach inside my skull and make my mind stop.

Just for a moment.

It`s 3 a.m. again.

Too silent.

Too quiet.

Too real.

The real me crawls out at this hour, the one who still feels like a weirdo, the one who remembers every blurred year of childhood pain, the one who was never good enough for anyone.

At 3 a.m., it isn`t dark me.

Darkness would be a relief.

In darkness, I wouldn`t have to see my own reflection.

But 3 a.m. is bright in a way I can`t explain, too bright, too honest and too much... me.

At 3 a.m., I become everything I fear.

Me as the demon.

Me as the shadow.

Me as the light I never asked for, the light that exposes every crack.

Not peaceful darkness... a blinding, cruel brightness that shows me exactly what I am.

At 3 a.m., I become the most horrifying creature I know.

A torturer yes, but not of flesh.

A torturer of thought.

Of memory.

Of my own mind.

I become the loop.

The echo.

The thing that won`t let me forget.

Me at 3 a.m.

Me in a world that doesn`t understand me.

Me pretending all day, masking my way through people... and then tearing those masks off in the middle of the night, alone with whatever monster I become.

So if there`s one truth left at 3 a.m., it`s this :

The monster was never under my bed.

It was never in the shadows.

It was never the hour.

It was me.

Me as the demon.

Me as the shadow.

Me as the thing I can`t escape.

3 a.m. doesn`t create monsters.

3 a.m. just turns off the lights inside me so I can finally see what I`ve always been.

And the worst part?

The part I can never tell anyone.

The whisper that comes every night relentless, cold, patient, isn`t from something outside.

It`s my own mind repeating the same sentence

Over

And over and over:

"You will never be enough."

And at 3 a.m., in the devil`s hour, I believe it.