‘6-Minute Quiz: What Percentage Monster Are You?’ by Beatrice Morgan

The problem with latent traits that may or may not emerge between the ages of eleven and thirty-five is I spend a lot of time wondering if I might be a monster.

It’s a big deal. But also not. Rather, it isn’t supposed to be a big deal, because monstrous traits emerge in lots of people (even if lots of people also do a decent job of hiding them whenever possible), but it’s also not ever really mentioned. Like puberty, or menstruation, or peeing after sex: natural and normal and the sort of thing bullet-pointed on a leaflet you pick up absentmindedly in the doctor’s waiting room before tossing it aside the moment you realize the contents. 

No one talks about it. You know, the fact that lots of people are a little bit monstrous. Which means it’s disconcerting to think of confiding in anyone, even my family or friends, when I notice things changing. Shifting. I start to perceive light a little differently. I’m no longer comfortable with the rhythm of my day. My skin feels stretched tight over too many bones and misplaced flesh. It’s like the body I’ve always lived in isn’t the body I’ve always lived in anymore — but not by much. Nothing to explain to a doctor with the expectation of being taken seriously.