From the Outside In

by Fantasiestucke

The world created a monster, fed it filth and taught it how to kill. But when the world saw that it had made a being stronger and smarter than even its creator, the world hid its shame in this lie: monsters are ugly from the inside out.

While outside in the hammock listening to music (and being devoured by mosquitoes I might add) I had a thought. This is the product of that thought. I rather like it.

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There are those who will say I am a monster, that I am ugly from the inside out. My horrible appearance must be the direct result of a devil living within. I am a murderer first and gargoyle second. There is no peace for the likes of me because I have brought this horrible visage upon myself. I deserve every last look of horror and every moment of loneliness that my existence has been granted.

To this, I say, is a babe born in sin? Are mere infants cursed by God for actions they have not, cannot commit? Neither is my ugliness caused by sins-though I have many of those too. I was born a child-no, not a demon or beast, but a child. It is hard to conceive that at one point in my miserable life I was blameless. I came out innocent. It is what happened to me beyond the time of my birth that creates the vermin I have become. This mangled flesh had to come from somewhere, no?

I can scream, I can shout, I can roar it from the tops of the skyscrapers that my being physically deformed is not some punishment from God. I am human-though at times I feel no other being can be further from his own species than I. I am what the omnipotent they have made me: a monster, brute, devil's child, killer, unnatural thing…

I was corrupted in the insanity spurred by the disgusting thing that is my face. My terrible nature is born of the hideous beast I appear to be, not backwards as the superstitious fool would have the public believe. I stole because I was hungry and no one would feed "the dog". I manipulated because in the eyes of the world, I held no authority and would always be less than a man. I killed because I was about to be driven, pushed, tossed over the cliff and left to die like a monster.

Never have I sought out the evils I commit. I did not desire blood invisibly carved into the backdrop of my mind. I simply react to what I am presented with, twisting the situation so that I may come out on top. Too often in my childhood did I see the hell that awaited if I gave in to society's demands to be beaten and subdued as a mutt. I rose to meet their challenge. It seems the world cannot bear the sight of the great terror it has created with its own sculpture's hands.

And thus, my hideousness is not the result of a withered and black heart. My grotesque nature is not from the inside out.

I am ugly from the outside in.