Hey, again.
Do you know what's sick about this all?
I can't find a reason to tell everyone that I didn't do those ... certain things. Things I can't even write out because... I don't know.
What's the point, you know?
They'll look, they'll listen and then they'll talk. But, I think the worst part of it all is that I've somewhat forgotten how to be anything but — this.
This Monster.
Are monsters suppose to know they are monsters? I thought the creators only knew they were monsters. Well, hey everyone, are you proud? Of you proud of me now?
Something happened today. I don't know what came over me, maybe she 'threatened' me, I - - something snapped.
I cornered her in the bathroom and ... I don't want to see the words on the paper.
To be honest,
I just want to climb out my window. The falling sensation. I'd like to fall, somehow I feel like it'd be comforting.
The hitting the ground part is where things go sticky.
But hey, all monsters are put down in the end. I wonder... if they knew they were a monster, would they save the people the trouble.
It's lonely to be fake loved.
It's lonely to be feared.
It's lonely to be a monster.
You know, I just need one person to give me a chance. One person to ask, one who didn't stare but acted. If they just asked me why.
I needed a reason — opportunity to be something else.
Sincerely,
well, me.
YOU ARE READING
The Property Of: Neena Eellante | ✓ |
Short Story❝ Neena Eellante ❞ - The last two words written by a girl with ratty blonde hair and tear stained, blue eyes. Words scratched fiercely into the spine of a leather book that held the story of a now, dead girl. - | a spin off of the character Neena Ee...
