I have aged enough to know that there are not physical monsters lurking beneath my bed or in my closet waiting to make their appearance in the brink of the night. Instead, I get the burden of “grown up” monsters, the monsters that don’t go away with a goodnight kiss or a nightlight. My personal monsters aren’t super scary in the frightening, yelping manner, yet they define a new category of much deeper presence. These monsters are insecurities that have built up a wall blocking my view from the real world and creating a perception within me of a false, negative reality. I have grown up in an era of massive monstrosity through my society that revolves around achieving and maintaining perfection in all aspects of life. My internal monsters
