My Dragons

I have a dragon.

She’s large with red scales; she breathes fire that shines as bright as the sun and burns hotter than lava. I can’t tell you exactly when I got her. It feels like she’s been with me my whole life, you know? She was free of charge too, but for some reason, I don’t feel fortunate or grateful. Care to know my dragon’s name?

The name of my dragon is Love.

She’s complicated. She’s good to me at times, then bad to me during others. Sometimes she makes me forget all that’s wrong in the world. Then there are days when she’s all that’s wrong with the world. Once I tried to run from her, but no matter where I ran, she would always find me. I soon learned that I couldn’t run from Love without facing the consequences.

I have another dragon.

She’s a blueish color with tints of gray. But I try to keep her caged. I do a good job at it for the most part, but there are days when she escapes and seems to control me.

Her name is Depression.

Depression isn’t as complicated as Love but she can be confusing. Sometimes she makes me do the stupidest things. Once she made me think I was ugly. Once she made me shred my favorite dress into pieces because Veronica Jones has the exact same one and it looked much better on her. Once she made me tell my twin sister I hated her because she stole my face and everyone liked her better. Once she made me believe I was a horrible person. Once she made me lose interest in some of my favorite activities—I even quit the swimming team. Once she made me consider ending it all because the world would be a better place without me. That’s when I realized she’d been out of her cage for too long—two months and five days, to be exact. With help from a friend, I secured her back behind bars. But I know one day she’ll return, and I’ll have to do it all over again.

It’s a never-ending cycle with her.

I have a third dragon.

He’s the only male of the bunch, which may be why I decided to call him Boy. It’s not creative but it fits. According to dragon years, he is just a boy. Boy is full of tricks up his sleeves. Those tricks are comedic to him but hurtful to me.

Like when he pretended to care?

That hurt.

Like when he pretended he’d catch me if I fell?

That hurt.

Like when he didn’t defend me in front of his friends?

That hurt.

Boy sometimes teams up with Love to make my life miserable. They’re a horrible duo, those two.

My baby dragon, Innocence, was as white as vanilla ice cream. I lost her once. I didn’t know it at the time but years later I realized I would never be getting her back. It’s sad really, I think I loved her the most.

The prettiest dragon by far is Society. She’s gorgeous. I don’t how she does it. She’s the one I try to please even though I know it’s in vain. She’s never pleased and if she is, it’s short lived. Her standards are constantly changing. Her expectations only get higher and higher, always out of my reach. One day she wants red meat to eat then the next she doesn’t. One day she wants black then the next she wants white. One day she’s with me then the next she’s against me.

I never know what to expect with her.

I have a final dragon.

She’s black with sharp scales. She’s the largest of them. She towers over the most massive buildings. She’s the worst of them all, which is why I try to keep her far away from me. And sometimes I think it’s not even worth trying because she always finds her way back to me. I’ll run and she’ll find me or she’ll just drag me back to her.

That’s why I named her Abuse.

She’s not just the largest but she’s the most scarring. I can attribute every one of my scars with something that’s she’s done. It was her mouth once that did the damage. Most of the scars aren’t physical but they’re mental and emotional. She made me doubt my worth. She made doubt my existence. She made me lose my confidence.

It was her tail once that did the physical damage. The force of that thing knocked me out several times. I have scars on my legs and bruises on my torso to prove it. Sometimes I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person looking back at me. Look inside me and you’ll see that I’m missing pieces—those pieces used to be what made me, me. But they’ve been ruined, ripped out, or scarred by Abuse.

The nice thing about my dragons is that I know I have the ability to conquer them. It’s not impossible. And although I cower and run now, I know one day I’ll be able to defeat them.



When I finished reading my piece to my English class, they all stared at me.

Some looked at me with confusion.

Some looked at me like I was crazy.

But there were a few that looked at me a special way, an indescribable way. It was a look without judgment, a look that contained understanding.

Just by the look on their faces, I knew they had dragons too.