Origin Story
Don’t call me a superhero.
I refuse to embody the persona of the strong survivor because you are the only one who benefits from that.
Don’t make me be your inspiration. The girl who overcame adversity, impervious to hardship. The heroin.
I didn’t ask for these things to happen to me,
And I may seem fine,
I may even seem stronger and wiser for it,
But I would never wish those things on you.
Ever.
This has been a journey,
But I refuse to let you rewrite it as an origin story.
By calling me a superhero, you ignore all the work I’ve put in to get here.
This hardship is not my origin story. The story of me began long before I met you so don’t reduce me to the only traits that you deem relevant to you.
You can let me inspire you to do good and try harder, but do not for a second allow it to make you think that it’s going to be easy. That by learning from me you can take the fast track. There is no express lane on this trip and we’re not even on the same highway. So make your own map, mine is already taken.
Don’t call me a superhero.
You hand me a cape, but I refuse to wear it like a badge of honour, or a beacon for hurt and broken people to flock to.
I don’t need disciples in order to heal, I just need you to understand and believe me.
Why do heroes get to be measured by the strength they used to win, while the heroin is only as valuable as the strength that was required of her to overcome?
By molding the face you see every day into that of a superhero you deny me the right of a secret identity. The strong, stoic survivor becomes my only identity, and I have to wear it every day. The grieving victim in need of comfort has no place here. Why do people always forget, the life of a superhero is lonely and cold and no one should have to feel alone and abandoned when being a victim is when they need love the most.
To become a superhero I must protect the ones I love by pushing them away. The only way I can battle the darkness in this world is to refuse to see the light in it, so if you want this from me don’t be surprised when I keep you at arms-length.
The empathy I have is my only salvation; my ticket to healing. If you expect to get this from me, I cannot also be your vigilante.
I may identify with heroes like “Jessica Jones” because she is strong and unrelenting like I’d love to be, but even she suffers from PTSD. As with all super heroes, their love becomes their greatest weakness so do not ask me to make love something I’m afraid of.
I am not an emotional vigilante.
I will wear my trust and empathy like a badge because those are the true qualities that make me who I am. I want my friends to seek and praise me for how good I make them feel, not the hunger for catharsis I awaken inside them. I refuse to become the spokesperson for triumph because I would never presume to be that important. I never asked for attention, in fact I’d rather my wounds be left alone, thank-you very much.
Fuck being a super hero, I will become a champion of love. The preacher of kindness, and a warrior of acceptance. With this I can finally put down my mask in exchange for my real face because acceptance for who I am, despite what I’ve been through, is all I’ve ever wanted.
I love feeling strong, but allow me to be vulnerable as well.
And some nights I may still feed the darkness inside of me and play with the fire someone else lit. I can still be angry at the world so I don my leather fighting armour and find comfort in a concealing mask, but this is not a failure. Nor is it a cry for justice. It’s just me healing. Do not deny me that.
I am not a super hero.
I am a survivor first,
and only an example thereafter.
I am just me,
and I am more than satisfied with that.
