Diary Entry of a Myth

They say that the hardest reason as to why you can’t let go of a person, is because you’re letting go of a piece of yourself in the process. Did you dedicate your all to them? Did you have future expectations for the both of you?

Whoever it is you’re attached to, you’ve probably grown to know them, spent significant amounts of time with them, or maybe they’ve been around for many stages and moments of your life. Perhaps, all three of those reasons? Regardless of the person, I understand. I hold this piece of knowledge and contemplation closer than I ever had.

Although it’s not the same situation it’s the closest comparison I could think of. Who did I lose? Well, it wasn’t anyone other than myself, and I was entitled to every one of those reasons for wanting to stay. I don’t believe that I deserved to lose my life the way I did, I feel so strongly against it, and because of that I refuse to go away until I’m ready. I’ve lost more than a piece of myself, I’ve lost everything, and for what? How would I know everything would’ve been so short lived?

It’s unfair, and I was just a child, but the man hid in my closet. It was too late and I guess it couldn’t be helped. He had already seen that I’d seen him back. Naturally, he laid upon me the kiss of death, and with that came an obligation to protect what I so lost. How unlucky can you be? What are the chances and why’d it have to be me?

I’ve never seen myself since that day, nor am I sure what I embody, I’m just not human and I know that much. What I do know is that half the town knows I’m around, maybe the rumor I exist stretched farther than that, and they can call me a spirit, a demon, and even an urban legend, but I pay no mind to that.

My only hope is that they’d refrain from giving me a bad name, especially the parents who use the name and story they fabricated about me to scare their children into behaving and submitting.

Unfortunately I cannot advocate for myself, or express the rage within me when they villainize my existence..

I remind myself that only God knows it’s all lies. I mean of course!

Only their children can see me, and occasionally they make terrifying portraits to describe how I supposedly look to their parents, and they never believe them in the end. I do feel ashamed for making them look like they’ve lost it, but I’m desperate and will do anything it takes to keep them safe.

How I look is not up to me, why can’t they understand that? I just fulfill my duty, shouldn’t that be enough? I never wished to make them all cry and scream when they’d see me creep up in the dark corner of their bedroom. Hence why I resorted to hiding in the closet and under the bed. I’m hoping they won’t see me. He laid upon me the kiss of death, and with that came an obligation to protect what I so lost, and that was the right to grow.

So every night I lurk in the rooms of the children of the town. To be on the lookout for a real monster,

another human.

Sincerely, the Boogeyman