Why You Should Always Give Purpose To The Things You Create

She was one word and that word was alive.
She would have been two but she was created by a man and he decided that one was enough. Any more and she might get the wrong idea. She’d turn two into three and three into four and it would give her a sense of self-worth, of want, and that would just give him a headache he didn’t need.
He created her from his ego and ignorance, meaning for her to be nothing more than something to look at. And he loved looking at her. His creation, his being, his possession, something to control. No-one else knew how he felt. Sons and daughters can be born but to create one with your own hands, to choose how they think and who they will become, the feelings would entirely perplex the most nurturing of mothers.
She was his last hope. His last hope for a child bearing his father’s name to go further than the borders of their worth, even though he knew life would never let her get that far. She’d survived school, a whole year with no question of her existence or why she walked and talked like some video game character that never makes it halfway into the storyline. Their own technology had consumed them more than any had her that she was the most human there.
The rainbows in her eyes made the man weep of pity for himself. He could not keep her and he couldn’t let her go, she was his after all. Destroying her would destroy his own vision of happiness but to keep her would suffocate the very reason he built her in the first place. Caught between a war of self-destruction and selfishness, he kept her but kept her hidden from the outside world. He was protecting her from the evils of men that he helped to create and from the women, all of whom he hated, for too many reasons to give one.

Why You Should Always Give Purpose To The Things You Create

Her life became one she didn’t want to live anymore. She had so many things she needed to share with the world but day by day they dissipated into her own dread and her own pain. The future planned for her became an impossibility as each dream became just a second of black space.
He’d planned her life out so well, working around the changes he made to better suit himself, that he never considered what would happen when she didn’t want life anymore. She was strong in her determination, her ambition and her confidence in herself that he never considered the flipside of giving her these gifts.
The end for her was unexpected, which is usually the case. So blinded by control and perfection that the man killed the thing he loved and he had no idea he was the one she was escaping from. He’d killed the dreams he’d given her and replaced them with nothing more than the question of her existence.