There once existed the most vile of monsters.
What made this monster most vile was it's incomprehensible, unparalleled hate and disgust for everything it perceived.
It hated the world it was forced into.
It hated the other disgusting monsters it was forced to share it with.
It hated how long life was, it hated how short life was, it hated love, it hated hate, it hated the sky, the ground, freedom, oppression, and everything in between.
But the one thing it hated more than anything else, was itself.
Oh god, how it hated itself.
It would have gladly taken a hand knit christmas sweater from it's grandma along side everything else in existence if only to rid itself of it's own.
So that's exactly what it would do.
It would rid itself of itself.
By changing into everything it was not.
It would be understanding.
It would be kind.
It would be forgiving.
Optimistic.
Supportive.
And most of all... Selfless.
It would force itself to love the world it hated.
Because loving this disgusting world is something it could never do.
Maybe then, after it's changed, after it was no longer the one thing it hated most.
Maybe, possibly, there could be a chance, that one day it could perhaps love itself.
And so it changed.
It told itself the world was beautiful. That monsters were beautiful.
That there was beauty to both the length and briefness of life.
It taught itself to believe in the coexistence of love and hate.
And to enjoy the physical existence it was given.
It put on a mask, a smile, and dressed like it cared.
It told itself it was worth loving, and it told the same to others.
It taught them the beauty of the world, and it's monsters.
It helped them. It loved them. It dedicated every available second of it's time to them, sacrificing night after sleepless night fighting for them, crying for them.
But every time it looked in the mirror and peaked through it's mask, it would see who it was underneath it all, and it would burn with hate more fierce than ever before. Hate for itself. Hate for the lies. Hate for the monsters it lied to.
But the hate for itself would burn true every time, and it buried itself back under it's mask; under it's smile, where it could not be seen, and returned to loving the world.
...
Eventually, the monster grew restless.
Never ending thoughts swirling in it's head.
It seemed as though the monster would never escape it's hate for itself.
And it knew why.
No matter how much the monster loved others, no matter how much of itself it gave to the world, no matter how much it tried to change, the fact remained, that all of the understanding it possessed, all of the kindness it gave, the forgiveness, the optimism, and supportiveness; in the end, was all for itself.
It was all to make itself feel better than it really was. Different from the monster it knew itself to be. The selfless acts it appeared to live by were in fact the most selfish of all.
It wanted to believe it was good, so it acted good.
But a wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf, and no amount of bahing or choking down grass will ever make up for that fact.
The monster was selfish.
For as long as it was trying to change, it would always be selfish.
Once again, the monster hated itself, the world it was forced into, and the monsters it was forced to share it with.
And once again, it buried itself under it's mask, and went to sleep.
Maybe this time, in the morning, it could forget why it was doing these things for the world and it's monsters.
Forget that it was for itself.
Maybe then, it could truly be selfless.
Maybe then it could love itself.
Maybe...
What made this monster most vile was it's incomprehensible, unparalleled hate and disgust for everything it perceived.
It hated the world it was forced into.
It hated the other disgusting monsters it was forced to share it with.
It hated how long life was, it hated how short life was, it hated love, it hated hate, it hated the sky, the ground, freedom, oppression, and everything in between.
But the one thing it hated more than anything else, was itself.
Oh god, how it hated itself.
It would have gladly taken a hand knit christmas sweater from it's grandma along side everything else in existence if only to rid itself of it's own.
So that's exactly what it would do.
It would rid itself of itself.
By changing into everything it was not.
It would be understanding.
It would be kind.
It would be forgiving.
Optimistic.
Supportive.
And most of all... Selfless.
It would force itself to love the world it hated.
Because loving this disgusting world is something it could never do.
Maybe then, after it's changed, after it was no longer the one thing it hated most.
Maybe, possibly, there could be a chance, that one day it could perhaps love itself.
And so it changed.
It told itself the world was beautiful. That monsters were beautiful.
That there was beauty to both the length and briefness of life.
It taught itself to believe in the coexistence of love and hate.
And to enjoy the physical existence it was given.
It put on a mask, a smile, and dressed like it cared.
It told itself it was worth loving, and it told the same to others.
It taught them the beauty of the world, and it's monsters.
It helped them. It loved them. It dedicated every available second of it's time to them, sacrificing night after sleepless night fighting for them, crying for them.
But every time it looked in the mirror and peaked through it's mask, it would see who it was underneath it all, and it would burn with hate more fierce than ever before. Hate for itself. Hate for the lies. Hate for the monsters it lied to.
But the hate for itself would burn true every time, and it buried itself back under it's mask; under it's smile, where it could not be seen, and returned to loving the world.
...
Eventually, the monster grew restless.
Never ending thoughts swirling in it's head.
It seemed as though the monster would never escape it's hate for itself.
And it knew why.
No matter how much the monster loved others, no matter how much of itself it gave to the world, no matter how much it tried to change, the fact remained, that all of the understanding it possessed, all of the kindness it gave, the forgiveness, the optimism, and supportiveness; in the end, was all for itself.
It was all to make itself feel better than it really was. Different from the monster it knew itself to be. The selfless acts it appeared to live by were in fact the most selfish of all.
It wanted to believe it was good, so it acted good.
But a wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf, and no amount of bahing or choking down grass will ever make up for that fact.
The monster was selfish.
For as long as it was trying to change, it would always be selfish.
Once again, the monster hated itself, the world it was forced into, and the monsters it was forced to share it with.
And once again, it buried itself under it's mask, and went to sleep.
Maybe this time, in the morning, it could forget why it was doing these things for the world and it's monsters.
Forget that it was for itself.
Maybe then, it could truly be selfless.
Maybe then it could love itself.
Maybe...
Last edited:
