I kept the monster…

I stopped trying to find myself when I realised the search was just another way of asking permission to exist.

Nothing is missing.

What I kept calling “lost” was just the part of me that refused to behave.

I have spent years trying to make myself smaller, smoother, easier to swallow.

Every attempt came with rules.
Be calmer.
Be nicer.
Be less.

Each one filed a little more off my edges until there was barely anything left that felt like mine.

So I stopped.

I took the mask off and didn’t discover a softer truth underneath.

I found a monster.

Claws out. Teeth sharp. Eyes wide open.

And instead of flinching, I let her stay.

I am not interested in taming her.
I am not here to fix her.


There is dirt under my nails.
From digging.
From climbing.
From deliberately tearing holes in the ground beneath my own feet just to see what would happen.

Sometimes I dig myself out. Sometimes I dig deeper.
Both teach me where the ground gives way.

People love to call that spiralling. As if it’s a failure.

But galaxies are built in spirals. Movement does not have to be neat to be purposeful.

Yes, I spiral.
I unravel.

That isn’t collapse. That is motion.

I’m not trying to get my shit together anymore.

I’m understanding exactly how it comes apart.

I am letting myself fall to pieces on purpose.

Watching what survives the impact and what never deserved to be carried this far.

I sharpen my teeth because I am meant to bite.
I keep my claws because I need them.

I make no promises about being palatable.

I am not becoming a better version of myself.

I am becoming a truer one.

Monster and all.