thinking about Frankenstein again!
Every day I have to wake up to only be reminded of the fact that Mary Shelly wrote Frankenstein when she was only eighteen years old. I, being nineteen (and turning twenty in a month), have not written anything as good as Frankenstein. From this fact only is where most of my self-hatred comes from. I love Frankenstein. I will always love Frankenstein. Even though I may never come to write anything as good as Frankenstein. I will continue to adore Mary Shelly’s creation. I am definitely not the only person in the world that adores the literacy masterpiece that is, Frankenstein.
I was assigned to read Frankenstein during my senior year of high school. It should go without saying at this point (if you have had at least one conversation with me) reading Frankenstein had drastically changed my life. Mary Shelly made me the person I am today. I fell in love escaping reality within a book. It sparked me with creativity to write my own stories. I owe my life to Frankenstein.
