I Feel Like a Monster; I Might be Human

I feel like a monster. I live in a cave, but it has been made suitable for me with lights that enable me to stay up all hours. I can even control the weather inside it. These gadgets help me sacrifice my sleep for more entertainment.

I feel like a monster. I am groggy as I awaken from my slumber. I see my reflection and know it shouldn’t be like this. I’ve thickened my outer layer to protect me from the outside world. But that’s not enough, I must cover myself with uncomfortable garbs that will make me blend in with everyone around me, or they make me stick out. I can never tell which is worse. I put chemicals on myself, so I fit in more. I ignore the fact they might be mutating me, my cells, and my personality. Not fitting in is too awkward for me to handle.

I feel like a monster. I’m almost awake now, and I move myself faster than ever imaginable, and all it takes is sitting still and burning poison. In an attempt to regain my energy I consume makeshift fuel. It’s a much quicker process than taking the time to sleep.

I feel like a monster. For my food and continued comfort, I stay still for hours and fixate on changing pixels. I feel rage when they don’t align right. And sometimes when they are in the proper position, I’m still not happy.

I feel like a monster. To relax I consume what others have made. But nothing challenging or controversial, that makes me uncomfortable. Only the things that are safe, that’s what comforts me. Deep inside I feel awe at what these people have made. I say I could never create anything half as good as them it would take too much time and effort.

I feel like a monster. I can get my hands on something as soon as I want it, rarely do I have to wait. When I am delayed, that’s when I turn into a beast. I become rageful and seek revenge on whatever causes me this inconvenience.

I feel like a monster. As a monster, I have the privilege to be attached to a network more extensive than I could ever comprehend. I am a part of the herd, but that doesn’t mean we’re connected. I wonder if this is natural if this is what I’m supposed to be doing. But it’s what everyone else is doing. I do as I’m told, anything else would be uncomfortable.

I might be a human. For energy, I use my legs to move at a moderate speed through the monster’s world. The pillars they’ve stacked up surround me I might feel trapped, but I know I’ll be escaping soon. I’m drenched in sticky, uncomfortable sweat, and my heart is beating. I can not think because my mind is racing. I can’t catch either of them, but that’s okay. They will come back to me when they’re ready.

I might be a human. I use contraptions that turn others into monsters. It’s really quite fascinating. The tools they’ve made are really quite useful, but I stay aware of their unintended consequences. A cold stream of water from the automated waterfall relaxes my muscles and I leave the machine refreshed. I survived because I know too much comfort will turn me into one of them.

I might be a human. In this world, I have to avoid traps, distractions, and monotony. I put my head down and focus on what makes me feel human. I make something with my hands and my mind as my ancestors did. Maybe it’s valuable, maybe it’s not, it’s not for me to determine. I put all of myself into it, and that’s all I can do. It wasn’t easy, but that doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll do it again.

I might be a human. I go home and on the way watch out for the things that might turn me into a monster. There’s poison that I could eat and drink, and it would quickly turn me back into what I once was. I do the hard thing and refuse it.

I might be human. I’m headed somewhere that I belong. The place that I came from instead of staying in what the monsters built. I pack a small bag, I don’t need much just to survive. I find a few humans that I trust, and we leave the monster’s world. We’re surrounded by danger, and anything could happen. It makes me feel alive. This is where we belong, even if we forget it at times.

I might be a human. We erect the shelters that we brought, someone has really made them light. It’s nothing like what the monsters use, but it’s more than our ancestors ever had.

I might be human. I make a fire. I’m not the first and won’t be the last to do this. It connects me with my heritage. The group sits back, and we share stories, jokes, and songs. We laugh and cry and wonder if anything is going to be alright. Maybe it won’t, perhaps it will, that’s not for us to decide. Afterall, at best we’re only human, and nature is where we came from. As long as we remember that wherever the monsters take us will be alright.

I might be human. We look up at the stars and know how small we are compared to it all. The world is telling us it’s time for sleep. We rebel against it with more stories, songs, and jokes but we can only combat the tiredness so much.

I might be human. A yawn pulls a breath of fresh air into my lungs, and I know it’s time to for sleep. I crawl into my makeshift shelter and lay on the ground as trillions of humans have done before. There’s a rock under me, it pokes my back. I know the monsters don’t have these problems. I sleep on the rock, and it reminds me that I might be human.