It’s so dark in this bedroom, I don’t understand why you don’t turn on a light.

You like the dark. It suits your cold, empty heart. I’ve tried to fix this room while everyone else’s presence was absent, but you simply turn it back that way it was. You do not appreciate my rearranging.

You’re so cruel to me. You lock me inside this tiny section of your room and do not allow me to leave, and when I try to, you scream at me until I’m quiet again.

What made us drift so far apart? When you were a child, we used to play and talk and play tea parties for hours without end. But now, you stare at me with mysterious eyes if I try to even converse with you.

Whenever I attempt to come out of this prison-like compartment of your room, you scream and call in the monsters. They reassure you that I do not exist, and enter my prison. I force myself onto the ceiling until they exit. Then you stare at me until you fall asleep, as if not noticing that I'm staring right back.

Our friendship began deteriorating when you first confessed that you were beginning to no longer enjoy the games we played. You said I was different than your friends at school, that I scared you sometimes.

Hypocritical bitch. I scared you? How about all those times you locked me in the closet for days, leaving me in the dark? You’re no longer who you once were. You call me ‘ugly,’ ‘hideous,’ ‘monster,’ when we were once friends. I loved you. I trusted you. You were my everything.

You damned me to hell, swore, and prayed that some hellish creature would drag me back to my origins. Or that a being of divinity would come and purge my soul from your presence.

But that’s okay. I’m going to dawn freedom upon myself soon. Possibly tonight. I’m going to free myself, all of us.

The others never liked you to begin with. They wanted to consume you at the beginning before you got old enough to hurt me. They said you would only care for a short while, then grow terrified of me once you realized we were not equals. Which of us is the true monster to have proved them right?

How innocent you appear while you sleep. I can see you now, your blankets rising and falling steadily as you doze in your own private Wonderland. I almost don’t want to do it.

But I must.

So sleep through it, my veiled angel, as I clip your wings of life and hush your dead lips forever. Descend quietly as you join the lands of the still and silent.

Tonight, I have had this door slammed in my face by your hand for the last time. You seem to have forgotten that this closet door opens both ways.