Prologue

Prologue

I tried to save myself for years, but eventually, I just became a frayed flag in the wind. I didn't know my colors or patterns; I didn't know myself. I was just there surviving.

The problem with today's ideals is that we must do it alone because that improves gratification.

But what if you fail?

What if you don't fail or succeed but just coast?

What then?

I think this is how the villain must feel. The hero has the masses for support. The hero isn't alone in doing it all; they have sidekicks. The villain does it all by themselves; they don't trust or welcome friends because everyone is seen as a potential enemy.

I was trying to do it all, hide it all, and slowly, it was killing the good in me, the little bit of hope I had left. Slowly, all the lies and terrors I endured were making my heart into a black, villainous one. A heart where blame was easier to swallow than acceptance.

So, I blamed myself every single day. I repeated yesterday's pattern for years, hoping that it would differ. Patterns don't change unless you change them. So I did, or at least I tried to.

I had to break yesterday. Stop the cycle from repeating.

I've finally come to terms with the idea that you can say, 'screw you, society,' middle finger to the sky, and turn your back on what everyone's perfect mold is.

It's okay to ask for help. To confess our emotions, stop being a closed bottle and pour all that shit out.

Of course, I learned this the hard way. I bottled it all for years, and then my bottle was shaken. Violently.

I wasn't shaken by the monster who hurt me. Instead, I was ripped open and forced to confront my demons by the person who saved me.

That's when it happened. I unraveled directly into the arms of a man I should have stayed away from. It's not because he was evil; the problem was he was the hero, and I still viewed myself as the villain. After all, the villain kills people, and I blamed myself for his death.