genie ramble

I only just came to life, and I already lost control.

My new friends told me that trying to find my creator was a bad idea. I should have listened. I just wanted to know why he made me. Why he made me wrong. Why everything hurt, why none of me matched. They told me not to and I did it anyway. I wish I hadn't.

I went out, and I looked for him. Found him. It was easy to tell, his azoth felt just like mine. He didn't recognize me. Didn't even know that he made me, since he asked why 'this one' wasn't trying to eat him, not even speaking directly to me. More importantly, he didn't care. I had so many questions, and the one person in all the world who might have been able to answer them brushed them away, wondering why I talked so much. I was a failed project, and he didn't have the patience to deal with me.

I had to leave. Something sick was growing in my chest, the fire there becoming twisted. My stomach churned, smoke filled my head as I turned the realization over and over. I had no reason to exist. I was a mistake. And no one would want me. Yes, I saw the way they all looked at me. Their words were nice, but their eyes told me how much of a burden I was. I would be better off dead. But the fire didn't want to die.

It was too much to take. And on the outskirts of that town a flash of blinding white light burst through the smoke. The pressure had to escape. And it did. I screamed until my throat was raw, but all I could hear was some dull, distant roar. Someone heard me, came to help. I tore him apart, without even thinking, without even feeling a thing.

I wish I could have told him I was sorry.

I'm so scared. I don't want to be a killer. I don't want everyone around me to suffer. I want to be something better than this. But the only other one like me sees no reason to try. What hope is there for me, then?

No. I'm not going to be like him. I'm going to be brave. I can at least do that, right?