The demon that lurks in the deepest parts of our minds lives in all of us. There is no point in lying, even you have them too. Those pesky little creatures have a great love for taunting us, screaming aloud in our heads, pointing out our every flaw, our every mistake. 

At the tender age of twelve, I had already found two of my greatest enemies: the mirror and the dreaded weighing scale. 

I had never once remembered looking at the silvery surface and liking what was staring back. Why is your face so round? Why are your arms so flabby? It seems as though I was having a competition with my own reflection on who could pick out the most flaws with ourselves. The thoughts then hang over my head for the rest of the day, refusing to go away like some pesky mosquito. Every single thought was like a battle and every breath, a war. Sadly, it did not look like I was winning any time soon. 

The weighing scale was another mountain I could not conquer. My daily routine was simple: have breakfast, skip lunch, come back from school, weigh myself, then have a small treat for dinner if the number on the scale allowed it. It was like a deadly cycle that never stopped repeating. The thoughts in my head grew louder and louder, to the point where they almost swallowed me whole. I remember having to stifle my own cries at night with a blanket, feeling my heart sink even deeper into the ground when the numbers on the scale did not decrease. What had I become?

I had considered telling someone about my problems, but I never knew how. It was like my mouth was sewn shut by the demons, refusing to let my secrets spill. The devilish animals cried out in a sickening voice that made my stomach churn, “Your problems are so minuscule, if you tell someone, all they would do is look down on you!”

Being the foolish person that I was, I listened to them, building barriers as tall as Mount Fuji around me, not letting anyone in. Not even my parents.

Until one day, I made a new friend. Her name was Daysha. She had rosy red cheeks that complemented her features well and short black hair that stood up in odd places. If you had looked closely, you could even see that she had not one, but two chipped teeth. Eventually, we grew closer and closer until we became as inseparable as twins. She had noticed my habit of skipping meals and being the straightforward person that she was, decided to ask me about it.

"Why aren’t you eating?” She would ask.

"I’m not hungry,” The lie had already became second nature to me, the demons did not need to feed me excuses any longer.

However, Daysha was not the type of person who would give up so easily. She would repeat the same question over and over again, like some broken cassette player until I finally caved in and let the cat out of the bag.

I had expected her to look at me in a different light and I would be left friendless again, but she didn’t. Instead, telling her about my secret was the first step to breaking out of my deadly cycle. It started out small: she would give me bites of her lunch that she brought to school. I knew very well that she had purposely asked her mother to pack more food into her lunchbox so that there would be enough for me too. My heart swelled with gratitude. Then, I would move on to proper meals, healthy ones, with fewer calories.

Slowly but surely, my unhealthy habit of skipping meals and feeling self conscious about my body faded away into nothingness. It was almost as though the demons that lived in my head knew their time was up and willingly accepted their demise. Because of Daysha, the war that was in my mind was over and I was the winner. Finally, I had learnt the most useful and important lesson in life: learning to love yourself.

It turns out that my greatest enemy was not the mirror nor was it the weighing scale, it was myself.

It was I who beat myself up everyday. It was I who created all those demons inside my head. It was I who stripped myself off of all the confidence I once had. 

The hardest lesson in life was not learning how to be responsible or caring, because how kind could you be to others if you were not kind to yourself first? I had finally learnt to accept my flaws and more importantly, myself. She had taught me that the mirror could not show the real me and that the numbers on the scale did not define who I was as a person. This lesson learnt did not take a day or even a week, it had actually taken me three years. 

As I stand next to Daysha now, the only person that I love more than myself, all I can do is smile like a Cheshire Cat because no words could ever express how much I owed her. 

“Thank you.” I whisper silently in my head. Luckily for me, that was the only voice I heard that time. 

I grew up in a household where fear and betrayal ran deep. My father, Paul, made an oath during marriage to protect my mother till death tears them apart, but however did the direct opposite. For years I watched as he abused my mother both physically,mentally and emotionally I soon discovered that my trust in him was gradually slipping away and turning to hatred..He frequently made my mother a promise of change and repentance, begging her to give him another chance. The first time, my mother stayed. However, it continued. Every day I would hear the sound of painfstrikes and gut-wrenching cries that echoed throughout the house that made my stomach churn.

Hearing the cries of pain of mother made my blood boil. I absolutely loathed him. I really hope that he gets hit by a truck somewhere and dies. I wanted to do something to help but I was only just a child, stranded in this cold and cruel world with no one to. However, even when I tried to stop that loser, he would instead take out all his anger on me. He would take out his belt and whip me till I bled or give me a black eye. 

Even though people say that home was is the best, I hated it. I dreaded returning home at the end of the day because I knew all too well what the evening would hold. When I returned home the door would be unlocked, so I would climb up and head towards the kitchen. “Hello, sweetie how was your day?” he’d call from the living room chair. “Come here and give me a hug and a kiss. Tell me about your day.” Oh I’ll tell you, I wished I could say. Today during my math lesson I thought about how you beat the crap out of my mother last night. I will never understand why he would expect me to come running into his arms and not imagining me hoping that he will have an early and horrible death. I was young, not blind or deaf. I dreaded the days he called me to his side; even now I continue to despise his ignorance. When my mother finally had the guts and left him, I was the happiest child alive in hopes that I would never see him again

When I turned 15 however, I saw that loser once again. This time round when he came he looked completely different. The way he spoke, the way he acts and even the “aura” he gave out is different. He then bowed down and whispered in an apologetic tone, “I am sorry, Elgin, for everything that I done to you and  mother."

When he said that, I felt something snap. All emotions that I have pent up in my heart came bursting forwards like water from a broken dam. My face contorted with rage and fury and I could feel my blood boiling. An angry frown creased my forehead and I lashed out at him. The profanities that I used were so much that it would have made any sailor proud. He however, was standing there, crestfallen. Just as I was about to slam the door, I decided that it would have been too rash. I slowly calmed myself down and l process this thoroughly. I than said, ” even though you are still nothing in my eyes now, I forgive you.

After what I said, I felt a great burden from my heart being lifted my soul. After spending time with him, turns out he did really change after the divorce. He became extremely religious which was quite nice and he even repaired the relationship with mother up to the point that they are friends. This is the one thing that I have no regrets ever doing.

  Carrie was a beautiful young woman, perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair was a light golden color, and almost reminded me of the color of a sunbeam as it passes through a window. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean everything about her was perfection. I felt like the luckiest man alive. I recently got promoted at work, finally paid the down payment for my apartment and I was engaged to the love of my life.

  However things only went downhill from there. Quickly after my promotion I was burried by my work. The late nights spent at the office left me physically and emotionally exhausted. My new hectic schedule ate into the time I had set aside for sleep and relaxation leaving me easily irritable and withdrawn from people around me. My sudden change in lifestyle and attitude began to affect my relationship with Carrie and even though parts of me felt bad, I was too tired to care.

  The 3rd of November was one of the most busiest times of the year for me. The year was about to end and I had to rush all the annual reports to meet the deadline. My face had become sunken with dark circles around my eyes from working into the wee hours of the morning. Yet instead of being at work, I was driving Carrie to the airport to go on a short vacation with her friends. 

  She was still as cheerful as ever and remained understanding and positive about our relationship even after the major changes. On the way there she rambled on and on about the things she was going to do on her trip but despite her jubilant attitude all I had on my mind was work. As soon as she got out of my car at the airport I sped away, anxious to get back to the office ignoring the tinge of guilt when I saw her disappointed look because I didn’t say goodbye. 

  That night I finally let myself rest. I slumped down on the couch and turned on the television, lazily flipping through channels. Out of nowhere bold, bright red letters flashed across the television “Breaking News”.

“Flight FML129 from Singapore to Thailand has crashed into the ocean. Carrying 360 passengers and 15 staff...” the news reporter’s voice was drowned out by my thoughts, flight FML129? That’s Carries’ flight! My body went stiff. I couldn’t believe it, a million question raced through my mind. Was Carrie still alive? I could hear my heart beat in my ears, agony flooded my body, the images flashing on the television screen blurred followed by a darkness which enveloped me. 

  Consciousness faded in and out. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or not. Gradually things became clearer and I was more aware during these periods of consciousness. I was in a hospital bed with something wrapped around my neck that prevented me from moving, my hands were strapped down to the sides of the bed. The bed had a netting surrounding, keeping me from falling out. I saw a nurse come in and tried to talk to her. When suddenly there was a commotion. I heard someone shout “he’s awake” and then others came running in. A doctor asked me if I knew my name. I saw my Mother rush to my bed side as her held my hand firmly in hers, tear streaks on her face as she smiled down at me, full of relief. Ignoring the doctor I used every bit of energy in me and groaned “Carrie?” 

  My Mother’s expression changed to one of sadness “she’s gone my love” as her wrapped her arms around me, stroking my hair gently”
 In my grief I could not make a sound but only sob loudly into my mother’s arms as I had when I was a child.
  Weeks passed I recovered and went back to my apartment, yet I spent endless nights lying awake thinking of Carrie. Life went back to normal, but only now it felt so empty, like it wasn’t worth living anymore. Even after Carrie’s funeral I found myself constantly returning to the cemetery. As I cried rivers over her, I began to resent myself more for the way I had treated her. I was a fool to have had neglected the treasure before me, and now it has been stolen, lost forever to death. 

  Here I am again, 1 month and 28 days later, on the 31 of December. Everyone is waiting to welcome the new year with their loved ones. I am too with the person I love the most. The cool grass caressed my face as I laid by Carrie’s grave. I’d learnt the most useful lesson in my life, to treasure the ones I loved. What I pity I learnt this too late.