Monster

I'm a monster.

Every time I share my real feelings I upset those that I tell them to. They fight, they get angry, they take on my monster spawn emotionally inside themselves and struggle to disperse it. My monster has babies that grow and fester and infect their feelings.

Selfishly, I share.

Driven mad by the heavy, raspy breathing of the snarling beast prowling inside my chest, I selfishly release it. It infects others, leaving despair, rage, and turmoil in its wake. I watch the fallout, panting with release and growing dread and grief at the pain I have caused.

Unselfishly, I keep it locked up.

It's for your own good. My own suffering saves you from sharing in it. When you never notice, nor ask me what's wrong, it's a victory for me.

Until I can't bear the monster's thrashing in my chest.

In order to save you, my beloved world, I must suffer or die. I grieve for you, that I must leave you, that you must become dead to me in order to live.