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I am certain that I am the villain in a few stories because of my lack of communication, detachment, and distance. In my early to mid-twenties, I was definitely toxic. I was clinging to the idea of love. I actually liked the idea of it a lot more than the real thing. The real thing was just disappointing.

Looking at someone through the lens of innocence allows one to give and receive the purity of love. I’m sure being ignorant can make love feel easy and innocent. Adolescent love reminds me of two people existing separately, just being grateful to experience each other. It’s like, I think you’re pretty perfect, as do you, let’s be together. When I was growing up, it was just that simple.

This box carried so many versions of me, some I knew, others I had no clue. It was filled to the brim with parts given to me by different people; I just took the ones that made the most sense. I took the parts that resonated with me most, and I made them one. One whole thing, one whole me, because I didn’t give myself a chance to have a say on my own self.

All the chapters that I had completed, I flipped back through those pages. I read through the shitty ones that didn’t mean me any good; it was like I was torturing myself. Flipping through each page of every character that had me fucked up. I thought about every villain in my story and wanted to wage war with them all over again. It was like, just in case I didn’t do enough then, if I didn’t react bitchy enough, here’s a bigger bitch.

I have questions and concerns because, for one, I don’t want to date any individual who is looking at me and an 18-year-old with the same set of eyes. Perversion isn’t talked about enough or taken seriously enough for me. It made me realize how women once saw me and how often young girls are on the receiving end of women’s projections and insecurities.

I found myself struggling with forgiveness regarding man-boy. My evolved self was now beating up my past, enabling self. So, random moments with man-boy would cross my mind, making me resent him even more, as well as finding it difficult to forgive myself. For example, imagine being asked this question: What did I do wrong when all I ever wanted to do was love you and spend time with you? Is anyone else fucking disgusted by that? Like, why are you answering the question for m

Possibility feeds the system while creating fandom. Because greatness can only be witnessed not experienced or there will be too much access? Then who will stand out? Who will get to be the chosen few? And where would that leave room for the fantasy?