I grew up as an extrovert: I loved going to school, I stayed out beyond deadlines with friends who were my life. At nights when I went to sleep I saw a lizard on the ceiling, I wondered if it will fall through the blades of my running fan. I often pictured the green walls of my room being splattered with blood and the mangled parts of the lizard all over my bed and me. Most of the nights I wouldn’t blink, afraid that the picture in my head might come true. A part of me, scared, often wanted to run away. Another, however, wanted to stay. There were moments when I assumed - if I shut my eyes for a while then the lizard would just go away. But, I had come to believe that in the dim blue light of the zero watt bulb it had become a voyeur to my voyeurism. For its upside down world, I was perhaps a monster. Unaware it was of the fact, that I had made it a monster in my head, the one carrying an equal amount of blood in its body as I did, the one with