Per 
I like people, but they don't like me. It’s strange to talk about, but every time I see them they just try to run away. Maybe it’s the way I look? No, no. mother always told me I look beautiful. Maybe it’s the way i smell? No, no. mother has always told me that my room smells that way because of her, it’s never been me that people smell.
Today, I look up to see mother. She’s standing at the top of the stairs with a young boy in her arms. A new friend perhaps? But how would we talk with the tape over his mouth? A new playmate, perhaps? Yet how could he play with me when his arms were tied, just as his legs were? I smiled my warmest up to him, yet he only looked down at me with fear and madness before mother walked him down and laid him on the floor.
I hated to see mother sad, yet it was the only thing she showed on her face when she brought me a new friend, only sadness on her face before darting back to the top of the stairs, said, “I love you, sweety!” And finally left. The door closed, and i could feel my arms free again. Quickly, so quickly, I ran to my new friend, already trying to wiggle away at the sight of me.
In the shimmer of fallen tears i could only wonder why no one could ever love me. My teeth were beautiful, long and sharp like mother told me was good for people like me. My skin was red and skinless, shining with a wet coat that mother told me people loved. Twelve beautiful eyes, cute little black beads that lined the sides of my snout. So then why did people hate me?
It doesn’t matter. The child beneath me will learn to love his new body. He will love to be a part of me.
