This is a Pokémon fanfic. Don't judge.

Kids can read. Whatever.  -Steph32597s (talk) 15:28, March 8, 2014 (UTC)

To Trainer, From Metapod Edit


I’m vulnerable. I’m soft and squishy. I’m in the most awkward stage of my life. The puberty of my evolution process, if you will. Trainer, you have been with me since I was just a Caterpie. We’ve made it this far! There’s always that one Trainer that we battle in the forest. It squeals when the see me. I can’t help it! I want to say “I’m green! I blend in with the freaking grass! Don’t be mad at me! Grass is my natural home! That’s why Trainer lets me out of my Poké Ball!”

Why can’t people see that I’m worthwhile? I’m fun. Trainer, you understand me. I may only know three moves, but I can Tackle like a pro! I mean, I weigh almost 22 pounds. That’s a force to be reckoned with! And that String Shot? That smell throws off a foe off almost instantly! Will you pat me on the back?

But don’t get me wrong, I love you, Trainer. Trainer, you are always kind to me. You give me treats and hug me. You know that I have potential. Trainer, you know that one day, I will go with you through all your journeys. And I’ll always be ready to battle, even if I have no chance of winning.

Birth, Level Seven, Level Ten. We’ll be together through all of my evolutions.

Love, Metapod