"That has nothing to do with me."
Oh, but it has EVERYTHING to do with you.
You gave birth to me.
You brought me to existence, do you know what that means?
You gave me a body.
The ability to THINK.
The ability to FEEL.
The ability to be an INDIVIDUAL.
You made me in your image, a little clone that babbled and reached its arms towards you, yet you cowered at a single glance.
"What have I done?" You thought. "I have given birth to the Devil." You thought. "I must reverse this." YOU THOUGHT.
From the MILLISECOND I was brought into this world, you decided you didn't want me despite forcing me out of blissful nothingness and giving me life in an INSTANT.
...
Why must you always treat me this way?
I hate that look in your eye whenever I raise my voice.
Do you think I would hurt you?
Remember what you did?
When I was a little baby.
"STOP."
But why?
Do I make you sick?
Does my presence make you uncomfortable?