Welcome to the Illusionairy

I just realized, I’m not the hero, or even an antihero. I’ve been living through my villain origin story, and it hit me. I’m not on the path of the redeemed lost soul of the villain who will one day turn hero. I’ve hardened against the environments that were once harsh against me, I’ve honed talents and skills that make me adaptable, my presence a raw resource of power, and I’m not afraid to say this anymore. I am the villain who kills the hero in the end, and in the hero’s last breath they will inhale the ambers of everything they have ever loved burning in a pile of everything, everyone who ever threw me away. 

I’ve been speaking out on all of my social media platforms. We are not all given an equal experience in this country, judgments about us are made just based on the color of our skin, as well as our gender. I just wanted to show everyone some articles as old as 2010 because I think it’s disgusting we’ve known this was/is a problem since 2010, and the fact that there has had to have been such prolific backlash to accomplish something that should be the standard is so backwards. 

When I first met you, my whole world paused, and it gave me motion sickness. Then, my world stopped again when I saw you in a pretty white dress walking across a parking lot, but this time it was more like a high. Then, one day I gave up my whole life, the job I had worked at for two years, the car I saved every penny for, the little family I had, I gave all of it up just to be close to you. Then, when you said you wanted to take a break, my whole world stopped again, and it almost killed me three times. After tonight, I don’t think my world is going to start spinning again, not like it used to. I’m hanging up the cape, clicking off the pinklight, I’m locking the door, and I’m going to bed. I’ll keep in an ear out in case you forgot your keys, and you want to get in, but I will never leave my kryptonite out around you ever again. 

Signed, Superman

I miss how warm our bed was, how clear the night sky looked, and how soft each pillow was when laying next to you. I miss your sweet, quiet voice when we said goodnight before drifting in to our dreams. You used to read every chapter of my dumb indie book, and together we watched your favorite shows. Sometimes I wish I could fly around the word so fast, it would rewind time just so I could spend even one more night with you. One last chance to eat ramen on our floor together, gaze at the stars, then hold you in my arms before saying goodnight.

Forever yours,

Superman

But home doesn’t exist anymore, not mine.