Frankenstein’s Monster

Betrayal. Disgust. Disappointment.

We all fool ourselves about the people we love; believing that the people we’ve given ourselves to are better because of it. Unfortunately, this is not often the case.

Instead, they take everything you give them, and still go behind your back and search for more. Instead, they destroy who you are, and ask you to become something different, something better, something more. Then, once they disfigure you to their every whim, they go on to tell you that you still aren’t enough, and you never will be.

Truthfully, they thought you could satisfy them, but it just turns out that you can’t; and frankly, they’re not quite sure why you even exist at all.

In the end, they leave, and you’re left with Frankenstein; the marred, mashed, and contorted bits and pieces of you that have been rearranged in such a way that you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. In the aftermath, you're not even sure you'd want to.

You see, you may be mutated, you may be covered in seams and stitches, you may be the exact opposite of what you once were, but it's better than being the person that needed to be reconstructed in the first place.

It's better than being the person that has already been proven to be inadequate.