Monster Re-Incarnate

Year 0. Day 1.
I'm in a room.  The walls are stained a deep red hue.  A row of short windows lines the border separating wall from ceiling.  The door has blended into the walls.  I feel an intoxicating smell come over me.  The light from the windows shimmers faintly on the red walls, shining a reddish-purple gleam of light, breaking the homogeneity.  I lie down.

Year -16. Day unknown.
I don't know how to act.  I don't know how to think.  I don't know how to do.  I know nothing.  I want, and I cry, and I live.  It doesn't matter who I am.  It doesn't matter what happens around me.  I am the whole world.  Yet, I am not.  Do I love?  Do I care?  Am I anything more than desires and actions?  I don't know.  I tell my mother I love her, but then I ask for her rings when she dies.  I play with my brother, but then I put all the blame and punishment on him.  I run from my grandfather - because he's old.  I don't see my father.  I think he exists.  I cry and yell.  I won't eat.  I want things my way.  Yet I think it's unfair when people team up against me, when I'm found in the wrong, when I'm forced to do and live how I don't want to.  I am wrong.  But they're more wrong.
These are the thoughts of a 6 year old.

Year -8. Day 290.
I am a failure.  I have good grades.  I'm relatively talented.  I can think.  I can feel.  I have no purpose.  I'm alive.  I'm a failure.  I sit by my computer writing blogs and vents that no one will read, so I think.  The window to my right shines the summer rays faintly through the curtain.  I feel heavy and lethargic.  I can't leave my house.  I can't do anything.  I feel like I do nothing.  That's not true.  I paint and draw.  I draw almost every day.  I sit in front of the television and sketch while watching cartoons and sitcoms - whatever I can find to distract myself.  Lines emerge from the dirtied white paper.  Curves and shapes and details.  I trace over my drawing with ink.  I've accomplished something.  My back aches and my hands hurt and my knees are sore from the rough carpet.  I've accomplished something.  I'm a failure.

Year -4.  Day 300.
I am a failure.  I can't do anything.  I can't do my homework.  I can't get good grades.  I can't think.  I can't feel.  I can't accept reality.  I can't close the gap between myself and the world - between myself and my family; myself and my friends; myself and the dead.  I can't find a job.  I can't comfort my mother when she cries and feels pain.  I can't hug my grandfather as his approaching death slips slowly past my fingertips.  I can't break the burden and I can't close the wounds.  Was life a reality?  Did this year really happen?  I don't know.  I know nothing.  I see bleakness and death wherever I turn, and I think "Why can't I go with you?"
I have discovered love.  Rather, I know I love you, and you accept that because you have no reason not to.  And I know another loves me, but I don't see why.  She's beautiful and wonderful and I wish I could love her.  She's like a charm dangling daintily on a bracelet surrounding the wrist of my life.
You're better than me.
You can sing and dance and draw and live.
You can succeed.
I'm a failure.  You and I are the same.  Where you work and live and cry and breathe, you succeed.  I work and live and cry and breathe too.  I fail.  No, that's a lie.  I don't breathe.  

Year -1.  Day 365.
I am a failure.
The imaginary rain beats down on the windowpanes of my car as I sit, watching the darkness engulf reality.  The streets and buildings loom over me, more run-down and darker and gloomier than in the daylight.  I'm waiting for someone.  I'm shaking.  Minutes tick off and bring along with them an extra level of blackness; an extra level of emptiness; an extra level of twisted mis-truth and awareness.
"I like people like you.  Most people wouldn't go out of their way to help someone.  They would never bend over backwards for another person.  They would never offer help without being asked.  I like that people like you exist."
But I fail when I try to help.
"And I like people like her and me too. We all try to help others, and there aren't that many people like us."
You're different.  When you try, you succeed.  When she tries, she shines.  I fail.  I failed you today.  I always fail. 
Why can I only fail?  The rain beats more heavily now.   The cool dry air blows in from my open door as my lap quickly drenches with the falling drops.
"I asked him why he fell in love with me, and he said it was because I had a happiness about me."
Am I unhappy?
Yes.  You have an air of happiness.  I see it now.  You try and try and try, and cry and stress and breathe and try.  But you succeed.  And as sad as you are, you have an air of happiness about you.  And me?  I don't have that.  I never have.  Without my sadness; without my melancholy and distress, I am not happy.  I am a monster.  

Year -7. Day Unknown.
I wish I was young again.  I can't do anything now.  I succeeded when I was younger.  I was better when I was younger.  I was capable.  I work and work and work and still get nowhere.  I can't be like everyone else.  I don't know where I went wrong.  The small, narrow hallway filled with lockers laying against the walls, broken up by classrooms here and there - this is what accompanies my downfall.  As much as I try and work, I can't do anything.  When I was young, everything I did worked.  Everything was good.

Year 0. Day 1.
That's not true.  I failed when I was young.  I failed and cried and cried.  I was a monster or a crybaby.  I was already living in this dichotomy at age 9. 

Year -6. Day continuous.
I'm a monster.  I hurt him and there's no turning back.  I ruined my friendship and put someone through leagues of pain for fun.  I don't understand this.  I thought I was a good person.  I was mean and horrible as a child.  I thought I changed.  I can't say anything.  I can't apologize.  I'm disgusted.  I deserve punishment.  Oh G-d, please punish me!  I beg of you, give me the retribution I so deserve!

Year -4.  Day 250.
The thrill is overcoming me.  The sky is filled with stormy colors.  The moon is coming full.  The day of sacrifice will come!

Year -4.  Day 260.
I would have killed him.  I really would have done it!  What's wrong with me?!  Do I take stupid jokes and fun so seriously that I'd really kill someone??  He's my friend.  We shouldn't joke like this.  Not about death.  No one should die.  How did I get so caught up in a stupid joke?  Please forgive me Hashem.  Please look past this.  I won't repeat it.  I'll never do it for real.  You're the only G-d and no human will ever be sacrificed for you, for anyone.  I'm scared.  I can't do this again.

Year -3.  Day 200.
I'm so confused.  I'm so confused.  Who am I?  What am I?  What's going on?  I can't be sad, but I can't be happy.  When I'm not sad, I'm not careful.  I talk and talk and carry on and hurt and pain and kill.  I kill!  I can't kill anymore.  I must be careful.  I hate myself.  I hate when I get like this.  I hate when I kill with my words.  I hate when I hurt people.  I can't stop hurting unless I end the freedom; unless I end the carelessness.  I must be sad.  I must dwell.  I must think.

Year -2.  Day 20.
I've killed him.  It's over.  I loved him so much that I killed him.  His soul is gone.

Year -1.  Day 60.
I'm ok.  I'm not ok.  I hate life.  I hate it.  I wish I could die.  Everyone keeps dying.  Why won't they take me with them?  Why can't I disappear?  Please G-d, let me die!

Year -1.  Day 360.
I did it again.  I thought I was better.  I thought I cared about people.  I thought I was kinder and loved everyone.  I didn't think.  I wanted to be happy.  I just wanted.  And I acted.  I'm a monster.  I didn't kill anyone, but I hurt someone.  I hurt someone a lot.  He was my friend and I hurt him.  I thought I had learned, but I didn't.  I'm a monster.

Year -1.  Day 361.
Love doesn't exist.  I've never loved anyone.  Love is a lie.

Year -1.  Day 365.
I'm sitting in my car again.  There is no rain - only darkness.  I prayed for punishment.  I deserve the worst punishment there is.  I'm a terrible person.  I hurt people.  I judge people.  I kill people.  I thought I should die.  I thought it would be best.  Instead, I'm alive.  That is my punishment.  For being a monster, I'm punished to live life - as a monster; as a failure.

Year 0.  Day 1.
The red hued colors on the walls drip down.  They wash away in a stream, flowing under the crack of the invisible door.  Nothing is left.  All my blood is drained.  All my thoughts are empty.  This is what they call "Alive".