It started off so well. She filled her oceans with fish. They made pretty little boats and caught her creations. She gave them milk and honey. They rubbed their full bellies and gave up the horses for a patch of land they would pass down from generation to generation. But then things took a turn for the worse. “They’re just going through a rough patch,” she said as they slit each other’s throats over her land. She didn’t feel good about her soil now. “I just have to love them enough and they will eventually love me back,” she thought as they plucked her beloved rainforests and choked her rivers with plastic. One morning, she woke up and decided she had to look for her own milk and honey. Elsewhere.
She didn’t stick around for the ones with the soft voices. The ones that asked her what she would like to do on a Saturday. She felt safer with the ones who didn’t pause to let her think. It was easier this way. Better even. She didn’t mind the shouting so much, but she did miss her friends. She missed her family. But her Mother understood. She too, asked permission before buying a new teacup for the house. Alia knew something was wrong. She knew something had to change. But we always welcome the Monsters we know into our homes. Better those, than the unknown.