DRAW A MONSTER…

Draw a monster, they said—  
as if monsters are born,  
as if they crawl out of shadows fully formed  
with teeth already sharpened  
and names already cursed.

But when you draw yours,  
you realize the truth:  
the monster looks familiar.  
Too familiar.  
It has your posture on the days you collapse inward,  
your eyes on the nights you don’t sleep,  
your voice when you’re trying too hard  
to sound like you’re fine.

Why is it a monster?  
Because someone told you it was.  
Because someone pointed at your fear,  
your anger,  
your softness,  
your survival instincts,  
and called them ugly.  
Because someone taught you  
that anything powerful in you  
must be dangerous.

Maybe the monster is just you  
in a shape the world couldn’t handle.  
Maybe the claws are boundaries.  
Maybe the fangs are truths you finally said aloud.  
Maybe the horns are the parts of you  
that refused to stay small  
even when shrinking would’ve been easier.

Draw a monster—  
and you’ll find a creature  
that wasn’t born monstrous  
but named monstrous  
by people who feared what it could become.

Why is it a monster?  
Because it grew in the dark  
where no one bothered to understand it.  
Because it learned to roar  
after being silenced too long.  
Because it survived  
in ways that weren’t pretty  
but were necessary.

And maybe—  
if you look long enough—  
you’ll see it isn’t a monster at all.  
Just a misunderstood thing  
that finally stopped apologizing  
for existing.

— LR💜

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