You’re not who I thought you’d be because I made you up. Why did I do that? Like Doctor Frankenstein, I stole bits of other people and stitched them together. I reanimated my past and brought it to life again through you. The thrilling “It’s Alive!”, followed rapidly by the monster I created who wants to destroy me. This need to relive the same unpleasant experience over and over again is pretty crazy. If it’s horrible the first time, why do it again? The myth that it will be different the second or third time around is definitely a horror story. Instead of trying to rewrite an old story, I will live a new story minus the monsters.