sometimes i think a monster lives inside of me. one that comes out when its dark and i feel enraged as i reflect on the past.

this monster is femininity in nature with the hostility of the male’s innate nature.

sometimes, thoughts from my monster engulf me and actions happen. some actions i don’t like while i find others liberating.

this monster is feels raw and without shame.

this monster finds confidence in the fury like a fighter in battle.

this monster doesn’t sit dormant. no, it lurks and observes. it paces.

it simmers, even.

in my solitude this monster is no stranger yet bore no presence before it. or, at least, a presence that burrowed in my enmeshed subconscious.

the monster is a friend. my friend.

it teaches me to remember my solitude. my antipathy. my boundaries. and myself.

this monster is a friend.

the monster is with me when others have failed.

the monster lives within me, making space for its transformation that i control with my evolution. 

---

an inner monologue. by me.

this came to me after rereading a note to myself. this note is the voice of my monster, i believe. the voice i didn’t know to listen to or even embrace.

g’s note to self.

you wanted him gone and now he’s gone. let go. you deserve better and he still lives with his mom. 

remember what he did to you. remember the innate nature of any man.

they only have a mind that is primal and sex-driven. it wouldn’t take much for even the most “good” of guys to be an animal. 

he was and is no different.

he got what he wanted twice and stopped caring about you.

you cut it off after you saw his true colors. 

you are above him in every way.

E V E R Y W A Y.

remember your fire. remember your spite. men’s care is only defined transactionally.

how could they? they are built with no empathy.

you wanted him gone. he’s gone. let go. 

he’s showed you were you stand. that phone call meant nothing.

you are nothing but a body to him. something he thought he “conquered.” 

fuck him. let the hate fester.

be meaner. stricter. badder. become who they long for but cannot have.

do it.

they mean nothing. be chaos. be who you are.

men are nothing more than nightmares personified. 

your anger is only fuel for the journey to happiness. 

fuck him. 

the monster is conscious-like. omnipresent.

it has spoken to and through me before. though, i was bound by limits and rusted chains of performance. and yet, the monster stayed with me—even found the key to release me.

in my solidtude, my monster is a friend. keeping me afloat when my subconscious fights against my new teachings. teachings meant for my healing and betterment.

my monster is a protector and liberator.

my monster is most safe with me in my chosen isolation. still, wrath is no stranger when outside forces seek a former nature of myself—naive, frail, and male-centered.

my monster was even there as a kid. it knew me before i could catch up—then denied of it’s mission.

to save me.

-signed, g tha e.