Since I was a child I knew something was terribly wrong with me, whether that be some unusual mental thing, or a physical change in my brain. People were different from me, or maybe, I was the different one? I felt odd and out of place for a little girl who was supposed to be just like everyone else. Whether my outlandish style and way of life caused that, or followed it, didn’t matter, as either way, no one seemed to want to speak to me. My life seemed like a loop of bad decisions and spending my time alone. There’s no big surprise that I lacked happiness, and maybe if my family cared enough, I’d be diagnosed with depression and some other terrible mental illnesses that would explain how my life had gone to shit it even began. But who needs an explanation to something I’ll suffer with either way, so I repressed those violent and depressing thoughts, knowing they were only aimed at me anyways. TV and books were quick to promise me a happy ending with people that actually care about me but that seemed to be false hope and empty stories. I’d sit in my room instead, music running through my ears, drowning out the monsters that my harsh thoughts created.

Until I met her. My sun, my light. She didn’t seem bugged by the way I looked or the way I presented myself, and as she got to know me, she realized I wasn’t as bad as people treated me. She was something to look forward to and though I resisted getting to know her, out of fear of losing her too, she refused to leave me alone. I had sleepovers, and picnics, and stupid talk about school and families. And soon enough I couldn’t imagine my life without her. And as much as I loved her, her eyes, her touch, her smile, I could never tell her. I could never risk losing the one person who really cared. So she told me. She told me how she loved the oddities about me, the way my brain was different from hers, the way my smile, though rare, lit up her world when she saw it. She told me how she yearned for my arms around her after a hard day, or how she thought she couldn’t live without me.

Now that I’m older, now that I found out what I wanted to do with my life and I did it, and she never left my side. Now that I’m married to her, and now that we’ve adopted Lillie, our daughter, as well as Pumpkin the cat, I feel my life to be fulfilled. Now that she wakes up at my side every morning, that smile I love so much brightening my life, I’m happy. Those monsters created by the harsh thoughts of my youthful depression have left, and I’m satisfied with my life. With my gorgeous, brilliant wife. I’m finally happy, me, my sun, and the life we’ve created for ourselves. It had been a long time coming, but now I felt I could call myself the slayer of monsters.