Real Monsters

I used to believe that monsters lived under my bed. They loved scaring me in the dark. “That’s where they stay,” Society told me. “Where they belong.” But Society also ordered me to keep my stomach flat so people would like me. Short hair was for men. Lesbian. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t lift anything … Continue reading Real Monsters

Am I writing too big?

Can people dream too big? Is it too much to want to change the world? Perhaps I thought of doing that too early on.  I loved every time I made someone smile as a kid. I wanted more of it. Craved it. Writing was my forte out of everything, so I decided to change the … Continue reading Am I writing too big?