every picture is a story

when did i start being me? when did i become the hero of my own story line? how did i decide i was a hero and not a villain? when did i become air out of water? did i decide to be me or i just happened to be me? was there any choice for me? have i chosen good over evil, or is my definition of wrong vs evil is incorrect?

does someone evil know he is evil, or does he believe in his own kindness ? are people born angry or they become angry?

i am alone for sure, i am trapped in my body, i can’t share my feelings with others, i don’t know if the way i see yellow is the same way as that person over there. i have no way to know if the feeling of thirst of that person is the same as mine. i am my own reference, and judge and jury, i believe i know a lot but i don’t know shit really. i need to believe i am the hero of my story, there is no other choice. without the leading role, i just need to end myself… there is no other way, i have to be the hero but if i don’t know what is right or wrong, bright or dark, if all i know is what i perceived and distorted through my own filter, what kind of hero am i

maybe that is what he meant when he called me “vilaine” with his normally cute french accent, but that day it wasn’t cute. it was the same accent but it was full of darkness, sadness, disorientation, lost hopes… he wasn’t angry he was sad when he told me to go away. i didn’t mean to hurt him that much, i just lost control for a minute just to try by curiosity… that day i know for sure he didn’t look at me as an hero, i was the nemesis in his story…how can i tell i am so sorry, but he wouldn’t hear me, i know, i don’t have to try and see more disappointment… will i ever be again an hero?