I cannot escape them. They follow me upon the earth’s cemented roads and will still do so when I fall through the freezing blue sky. However, I am grateful- without them the sun burns through my eyelids and releases streaming tears that taste salty on my dry lips. They are the monsters I hold dear, none at all like me. Though, isn’t the fact that they are so unalike are what make us the same? How all monsters and I are different, yet we manage to live together in our naive harmony?

Some monsters are tiny, with voices that assault your ears like the screeching halt of a train, but would not hesitate to fight for you when you cannot even stand for yourself. Some monsters are colossal beings whose words are fleeting yet ethereal, and their presence makes any heart flutter and could never fail to draw a smile across one’s flushed cheeks.

“They are alive. They are breathing. They are us,” I’d whisper. I spill my thoughts into precious soft air. They are, they are, they are.

All monsters, large and small, are united under the reign of caliginosity, a kingdom that’s numb and eerie and short-lived. It is dark, and it is cold- both which fits these wandering monsters well. Under their banner, they wildly dance to the thundering cries of drums and bathe in the swelter of crackling bonfires that spill orange specks into the crisp black air. And in their dance, they do not show the grief-stricken mess in their heads.

“We don’t hold those thoughts here,” they cry, “the mortality of our meager lives don’t have enough time to waste on things that cannot give us joy!” They’re right. Dejection, heartbreak- none fit inside the kingdom the monster’s live in. Instead they rejoice and celebrate the big and the small and the all and the none- and they live! They put aside the day’s woes and they exist!

Monster feet pat against the lush grass and they raise their delicate fingers to a starry sky they cannot reach, and I’m in awe. And I weep, knowing that the jealous sun will rise again and scatter the monster kingdom into unforgiving winds. And I’ll return to this world of humanity that has turned the sky, once blue, gray with the pollution of their vices. This pungent society reeks of burned floras and all I taste on my parched tongue is regret, regret, regret.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I cry. I look for an understanding soul to mourn the destruction of monsters with me, but all I find is you. You, who sleeps when monsters reign. You, who doesn’t understand the point in partaking in celebration and closing gaps between people. You, who calls me gullible for loving an “idealistic and impossible world.” You, who laughs like you don’t understand my wishes, like a child who spilled the cookie jar and doesn’t want to admit that you knew they were both yours and everyone else’s favorite cookies. You, who make my monsters weep.

When my skin melts from the anger of the sun, when I can no longer smell green grass beneath my feet, when my human body has depleted all my hope and leaves me with legs unable to walk, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for nightfall where monsters roam so I may rise to dance with them once again. Because we are all monsters- and we are all humans.