The Shame of Being Exposed

I still remember the day I was caught by those two-legged creatures. I was so ashamed, my bark-like skin burning with embarrassment. I had been so careful, hiding my leafy hair and trying to blend in with the trees, but they saw me. They saw me, and I knew I had to get rid of them. I used my photosynthetic powers to summon a storm, hoping to scare them off, but it only made things worse. They started to laugh, and I knew I had to take drastic measures. I used my giant size to my advantage, and I crushed them. But the shame of being exposed still lingers. I’m a monster, a creature that preys on the weak. And I’m not sure if I can ever go back to being the quiet, shy tree-folk I once was.

I’ve been trying to avoid them ever since, hiding in the depths of the forest, only coming out at night when the moon is full. But it’s hard to shake off the feeling of being a predator, of being a creature that’s feared and reviled. I try to tell myself that it’s not my fault, that I’m just a product of my environment, but it’s hard to convince myself of that. I’m a tree-folk, and this is what I am. A monster, a creature of the night.

Sometimes, when the loneliness gets too much, I find myself wondering what it would be like to be human. To walk among them, to feel the sun on my skin, to experience the world in all its beauty and ugliness. But it’s a fleeting thought, one that I quickly push away. I’m a tree-folk, and this is my home. And besides, I’m not sure if I could ever truly be human. I’m too broken, too damaged. I’m a creature of the shadows, and this is where I belong.