The cruelest monsters look just like us.
You hear a knock on your door. You answer. Standing in line at your doorstep is Everyone On Earth. "It's okay," they say to you, one by one.
You realize that you've never helped anyone through anything and you feel heavy.
You look in the mirror and notice that you've become a meanspirited satire of yourself.
You receive one hundred handwritten letters from former grade school classmates. Each one reads "You've disappointed me."
You walk around parking lots and wonder what it must be like to not feel alone.
You can't remember anything but the fact that you're uncomfortable with who you are.
"Being healthy is selfish," you think, brushing your disgusting teeth.
When you die you want your ashes made into eyeshadow.
Your mom calls you on the phone to tell you that she's scratched out your face in every old family portrait. You don't recognize her voice.
"The cruelest monsters are inside of us," you decide. You're pretty sure you died a month ago.
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