But I couldn't stay beautiful and competent forever.
But I couldn't stay beautiful and competent forever.
I had too much that I had to do. Too much to stagnate as an image of what someone wanted. Every step I took into my own made me more monstrous. What emerged does not understand the language or feelings of humans. It does not operate on the same schedule. Its body and mind are both alien and corrupt. There's little to describe what I became, aside from:
Monster.
Creature.
Something that should not exist.
I know that I should be dead by now. I keep trying to reach that death, even now. Moth to a flame. Something repels me every time. Maybe I can't die because I'm already dead.