Day 546.

A monster lives in the folds of the curtain that is drawn between the real and the imaginary. A monster is more often than not, misunderstood. A monster is wounded in ways you couldn't possibly imagine.

A monster has parents. A monster eats and a monster shits, and a monster probably laughs and cries. A monster wants things, like lemon bars and hugs, and maybe romance and family, too.

A monster might even have friends. They might be other monsters, or they might be ghouls and ghosts or just people in t-shirts and jeans. A monster might just be sitting around hoping you'll pick up the phone to invite him to the movies. He won't care much which movie you see. He'll probably just want to be around you.

A monster might feel really proud of some of the things he's done. He might be happy that he's written a beautiful, sad song, or maybe made a really good stir-fry. A monster might feel terrible about other things he's done. Maybe he once said something that made his best friend cry. Maybe he once kicked his sister in the knee when they were little monsters.

A monster might not know much about himself, or he might know a lot. A monster might look in the mirror every day for three full minutes or more. A monster might avoid ever looking in the mirror, because he doesn't want to deal with the scars he sees, since he knows people think they make him ugly.

A monster might want to go for a swim in the ocean, or a starlit, nighttime hike. A monster might want to curl up into a ball under a blanket for a whole day. A monster just wants most things to feel okay.