A Cosmology of Monsters

by Shaun Hamill

Please don’t think this is your fault. I’m sorry about what I said to you, and I’m not mad that you took the car. It’s important to say these things, because there’s only one word that matters in these situations: Why? If you don’t lay out your answer (or answers) with lawyerly precision, the people you leave behind blame themselves. People are selfish and self-centered that way. When I wake up in the morning, I hurt all over. It’s like I have the flu, but without the fever and puking. Just an overwhelming ache, and sorrow at surviving another night. I know what you’re thinking: Eunice, we’ve known about your depression for years now. That’s why it’s important that you take your medication. The problem is that the medication doesn’t work anymore. I take it every day and still I hurt. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see my own face. I see a slowly disintegrating thing with dark circles under bleary, unfocused eyes and cracked lips that bleed when they try to smile. Sometimes when people talk to me, I can’t hear them, and when I do, I don’t know what to say back. Usually it’s the wrong thing. As I demonstrated tonight. I don’t mean to be like this. I’ve tried to get better, but I’m never going to be normal. There’s always going to be something wrong with me. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I will always fail. I won’t be pretty or athletic, and boys won’t like me.