RUUQO PELL {D8} WIP

CRAZY THAT WAS WHAT THEY ALL SAID. None of them thought that I was brave or talented, they all shunned me and hit me. They called me crazy. It didn't help though that whenever one of them, one of those monsters looked into my black eyes I snarled and screamed for them to leave. I fought and snapped at them with my teeth. They called me a cannibal and a lunatic all of them. They pointed and called me names. It hadn't been my fault that I had eaten my brother. HE HAD GOTTEN IN THE WAY. But I took all there words in, I believe them with every breath I took I knew I could believed them, it was what my head told me to belive. My head was smarter then my heart so I listened to it. Even when I knew that below the dark clothes that I wore, the clothes that were always stained with blood, my own or others I knew that soemtimes my heart told the truth. But my head dismissed it without a second thought.

I didn't know why sometimes I would look down at my hands and I would see the scars that ringed them and then other times I didn't see them. When I saw them I knew I was myself I knew that the monster wasn't in control. It made me cringe and try to escape my own body when I saw the scars that wrapped themselves around my body. I wanted to hide in fear not only from the pain, but also from the pain of what I knew I could do. My eyes were sunken in and carried all the pain and misery that was stored in my body in my life. My face was as if it was stained with tear streaks, as if my face had the permenant trails of my tears. The tears that slwoly washed away, and took with them the very essence of who I was. When i stared at my blood-stained clothes I wondered who I was and what I had done to have them.

People call me a monster, but none of them have ever called me friendly. I know that i am friendly. I am friendly when I'm not a monster. On the inside I am a kind person and I love hugs and people wh love me back. Maybe that is why I have the monster, or maybe that is why it comes out, because even when I am me... no one loves me or cares, maybe I become a monster because the love that I want I never get. Because the hugs and attention I need is never given. I want to be loved, but no one sees me. The see a bad cover and they judge me. It is as if I am a bad looking apple. I look horriable on the outside, but on the inside I am amazing. No one sees what they is really there, they see what they want to see. When I am not a monster I cry myself to sleep, or I do nothing, but lie down and huddle myself.