the space station hums with the early morning traffic, the wafting of coffee and fresh croissants filling the air. for the first time, you are not behind your desk, hitting your shins on the weirdly placed piece of metal, but strapping yourself insi...
you might say bad hair, rotten teeth and nails, a bad scent, a tragic past. if i asked a little child to draw a monster they'd make me something ugly, something not deserving of a second glance. if i asked an adult to describe a monster, it'd be something out of a horror movie—ugly, scary, nightmare worthy.
and i think that's what's beautiful about humans, our fragility. the fact that we can only understand evil when it comes from a source that seems worthy of the title of a monster.
but when we look at our own evil, it's different. when we look at those who perpetrated genocide or ended precious lives, we cannot seem to swallow the fact that this came from people like us. people who talk like us, walk like us, dress like us.
so, what do monsters look like?
anything with evil entangled and growing rampant in their hearts. and perhaps, for the flicker of a moment, someone who looks like you.
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