(I want to sincerely thank anyone that reads all of this.) I've been asking myself that question for as long as I could identify as having a sense of self. First, I was a predatory dinosaur. Then, I was an elusive feline. Shortly after that I became an Egptian god-queen. And more recently, I was a wolf. I have since stopped classifying myself as any of these, but I do wonder sometimes. At two years old, I saw myself as a huge, reptilian predator and stayed that way until I was five, when I became a feral cat in the arid winter of my Arizona backyard. I morphed into a golden queen at six and I still have that sense of self entitlement. In fourth, fifth, and sixth grade I was a wolf. My friends would 'pretend' with me, but it just wasn't make-believe for me. I've been a predator all my life. Now, in high school, I an thriving off of the competitive atmosphere and volatile social complexities. I've enjoyed antagonizing people my entire life; I just get a rush out of it and nothing else can get me so worked up, but so satisfied. I am persuasive. I am charismatic and charming. My 'anger' and 'freewheeling attitude' are just acts. Acts that, in the moment, I can both believe in and recognize as untrue. I enjoy telling stories. I enjoy telling lies. What's the harm if no one figures it out? I am selfish. I hate to lose. I have cheated since the first time I was introduced to other children. I had no patience for them; they were too slow and loud and messy and stupid to be my friends. I've since learned to deal with people like that. I can act as stupid as I need to when I want something, and can fit into any social group. I don't give a shit about other people's emotions and biases. Those have no place in logical thought and they disgust me. I do feel real emotion though, my feelings are bright and rude and inflated and distorted, so writing them down, making lists and charts, reduces all that chaos to looping grey lines on cheap printer paper. When no more words will come, I create different lines with that dull No. 2 pencil, sketching and shading and erasing for hours on end until a body in greyscale poses on the page, frozen in a microsecond of expression. If I did not do this, I fear I would explode. I am a control freak. Others simply cannot do things as well as I can, and I will not waste time explaining a simple concept like the relationship between gravity and time to knuckle-dragging simpletons with double digit IQ numbers. Weak links need to be eliminated, not pitied. If they can't keep up with me, that's their issue. I will not tolerate dead weight. When talking to people, I usually choose to 'agree' with whatever it is they are saying, and they trust me quickly. My current boyfriend is extremely introverted and moody (and emotionally soft, sensitive, and malleable); not the type to talk to anyone about his weaknesses. Ever. By the end of the first week of knowing eachother, I'd gotten more out of him than anyone else would in the following semester. I dont love him. I can't. I do not 'love' romantically. I love my sisters and my parents and my pets. I enjoy my friends and I would be genuinely sad if they left. But I don't love in the way most people do. Sure, I pity him. His 'weak link behavior' is only internal; no one can bully him but the girls that he loves. Every single one of his partners has been unfaithful, so his weakness isn't his fault. I wish that one day, he finds someone who can love him back. Because right now, he is in love with a twofaced machine with an ego that is both real and solid as reinforced steel but fake and flimsy like wet cardboard. I don't know what I am. Am I a monster? Please comment.