I let letters define my intelligence. The jumble of alphanumerical descriptions on my graded assignments define my worth in my eyes; I allow them to present themselves as my reflection. I deem myself to be condemned if they do not correlate to the first two letters of the alphabet. This doctrine feeds the monster of academic validation, allowing him to pounce on me and scold me for not being good enough.
Sometimes, as I walk towards my dorm and look for my keys to open the door, I can feel his presence, creeping behind me as an overwhelming void of disapproval trails the steps I have taken. I can hear him grunt and scoff at me looking for the right key, as if he expects more. When I enter the room and put on my headphones, he canalizes the Bluetooth and invades my thoughts with self-doubt. I can hear how his voice gets more intense as I begin to make my way to my bed.
The sheets welcome me, and my anxiety relieves a bit when they embrace me. The comfort of my bed brings me a safe haven from the monster. I can feel my eyes getting heavy and my heartbeats slowing down as I escape from the stress of classes. The darkness of the monster contrasts with my light, comforting bed.
The day has been long, and I just want a nap, but the monster doesn’t want to watch me waste my evening away with sleep. He forces me to manage my time according to his principles; the black void coerces me to stand up and do something with my life. My feet touch the stool beside my bed, and, like a mindless zombie, I begin to read my notes while the monster keeps whispering in my ears all the ways I disappoint him.
As I motionlessly sit on the chair, the exhaustion prevents me from forming a thought and nothing enters my brain. Time passes and the yellow light which adorned my room turns into a golden orange; then, I realize it has been hours since I have stood up. However, as I attempt to move my legs, I get held down by the monster. His voice gets loud and aggressive, shaming me for having needs and for being human.
My fingers can barely hold up my pencil, but I still continue revising the notes from today. My head hurts from all the studying and my stomach keeps reminding me that it is time to eat. The monster does not care; I must persevere even if he must speak now in a toxic manner to make sure I do not give up on today’s study session.
He has his favorite phrases and words to motivate me, which he repeats again and again. “How will you be the best if you can’t handle studying for only a few minutes? Do you think that slacking off will bring you to your dreams? Your contenders are getting better every chance they get, and you look at your phone or hang out with friends in the meantime as if those are what will bring you the success we crave.”
The monster’s words hit hard; his arms begin to crush my body, and, every time I try to stand up, he grips me harder. The bruises on my arms swell as seconds pass and his fingers embed in my skin. My eyes fog with tears and dark circles ornament them. I plead with the monster to stop, begging to stand up and stretch. The words he reiterates in my ears get harsher, and, suddenly, I decide to take off my headphones.
The monster disappears, and an unfamiliar sense of silence awakens me from the nightmare. As relief traverses through my body and I look for some food, I realize (or maybe I hope) that he left. My bed calls me once again; I take a shower and then wear my pajamas. This estranged sense of tranquility pleases me. Despite this comfort, as I place my headphones back at its place, I expect the monster to keep whispering while I study.
Weeks pass; I take my exams with the belief that I have escaped him. However, with a Canvas notification announcing a grade, he reappears in the corner of my bedroom. “I told you; you are a failure without me,” the monster says with an even darker tone than before. He challenges me from his corner and attacks me. As I fight with him desperately, my tears flood the bedroom floor.
“You thought you had a chance? You will never be like them without me. I’m the reason you are here. You won’t get rid of me; I will always be here.” As he delivers these words, it feels as though his voice gets sweeter with every word; I feel his hand hold my chin up and wipe my tears. Softly, he says, “Let me make you great.”
Whenever I study, I sense him right beside me. I study with the fear of disappointing him, which only gives him more power and control, intimidating me more and more every time I fail. He accompanies me to coffee shops, friend hangouts, flights back home — all the places I once loved and was safe from him. His weight, his haunting presence on my back dominates my weak soul, and I adjust to his existence with fear of frustrating him. He is here beside me now, looming over my computer mischievously as I write about him.
Johnalys Ferrer is a sophomore from Arecibo, Puerto Rico, studying Molecular and Cellular Biology.
