~ anonymous

Sometimes I feel there is an ugly side to me. A side that wants to do whatever the hell I want, to say what's on my mind without care of the consequences. There is an ugly beast inside of me though, but not the above mentioned one.

This one feels knocked around, used up and locked away in a tiny cage inside of me. Sometimes it's red, like during my period, but other times it's clutching its teddybear out of fear. It's the beast I hate because it epitomizes my self-loathing I carry. I wish I could put it in a jar so it could die silently, so I don't feel that ugliness again.

It's also the side other people see, the side they see when I seem unfavourable to them. When we see a person with new eyes, especially when they've wronged us, they seem like beasts. All my enemies are beasts to me, and they're beasts to me. I'll always see them as such, and vice versa.

It's so much easier to talk about the beast rather than the angel within. I think the angel in me avoids mind games to prove her worthiness. She tries valiantly to hold back the other beasts that could ruin me for my own good, yet has made mistakes towards others in interfering with good deeds gone wrong. I'd rather think of myself as an angel rather than a beast. The two battle it out at times and they're getting tired.

I suppose that's a part of being human, whatever that really is. It's so hard to see both angels and beasts inside others without choosing to see one or the other. The same goes for the two dwelling within myself.

I keep forgetting that I'm only human, that I make mistakes, and that others who've wronged me are also only human, although they forget this themselves.