The Monster Inside Me is called Hurt

Today, I came across a TikTok post that made me stop scrolling. It said, "There's a version of me that comes out only when I'm mad… and honestly, she terrifies me."

For a moment, I stopped scrolling. It felt like someone had put my thoughts into words before I ever could.

People usually meet the best version of me first. The careful one. The patient one. The one who chooses her words and apologizes too much. I don't let people in easily. It takes me a long time to trust someone. A long time to believe that I'm safe enough to be myself.

The moment I feel safe, I stop guarding every emotion. I stop pretending that everything is okay. I stop hiding. And somehow, that's when the monster starts showing up.

Not because I suddenly become a different person. But because all the emotions I've been holding back finally find somewhere to go. Those emotions always find their way to the people who made me feel safe enough to let my guard down. And that's the part I hate the most…

They were never supposed to carry my pain. They were never meant to become my emotional punching bag. I hate that the people who make me feel the safest are often the ones who meet the version of me I'm still trying to heal.

In the end, they're the ones who witness the ugliest version of me. Not strangers. Not people I barely know. The people I care about the most.

Sometimes I wonder if that's why I keep people at a distance. Because every time someone gets close enough… I'm terrified they'll eventually meet this version of me. The one I'm still ashamed of. The one I'm still trying to understand.

Sometimes I ask myself if I'm even a good person. Because I always believed that good people don't hurt the people they love. Yet somehow, I do.

However, after sitting with myself for a while, I finally understood what was really happening. Anger was never the beginning of the story. I wasn't angry because of that moment alone. I was angry because I had been carrying too much for too long. Burdens that were never mine. Problems I never created. Trauma that still follows me, even on the days I convince myself I'm doing okay. Everything that hurt me changed me, piece by piece.

Somewhere along the way, surviving became my default. Survival mode taught me to stay alert. To expect disappointment. To prepare for pain before it even arrives. And it's exhausting.

The kind of exhaustion that makes everything feel heavy. The kind that slowly steals the excitement for life.

Sometimes I think life isn't worth it anymore. Not because I want it to end. I'm just tired of surviving every single day. I just want to rest, for a little while.

Maybe the monster inside me was never anger. Maybe… it has always been hurt.

And maybe the person I've been trying so hard to fight… is actually the one who's been asking to be healed all along.