I am slowly learning that I don’t have to believe the stories others have written about me. I don’t have to be the character they want to be. I don’t have to give them the happy ending they want. It’s not their story. It’s mine and I won’t let them take the pen away from me again.
They want to paint me as the villain so they can sleep better at night or they want to paint me as the victim so they can feel powerful and victorious. They want to paint me as the crazy, rebellious, lost soul so they can feel like they have someone to guide whereas they’re the ones who really need guidance. They want to paint me as the inconsiderate, heartless kid so they can justify the hurtful words they said.
I am slowly learning that some people will always mold you into their story the way they want it to be because everyone wants to be the hero in their own story, no one wants to be the bad guy. No one wants to write the truth. Everyone wants to write the reality they wish they were living and when you give them something that changes that narrative, they will do their best to write you off because changing their script means facing realities they’ve neglected for years. Changing their script means starting over. Changing their script means exposing their lies and some people out there love living a lie — a fabricated story they tell people so they can glorify themselves.
But I am slowly learning that I’m not like that. I write my story the way it is even if it hurts. I don’t write lies and believe them. I don’t write a fake reality so I can impress people. I write everything they erase. I write all the words they don’t want me to say out loud. I tell the stories they don’t want anyone to know. I don’t sugarcoat their bitterness.
And maybe that’s why they paint me as the villain and maybe I’m okay with that because a person who has already lost everything has nothing more to lose and even if they break all my fingers, I’m not giving them the pen again because my story will always glorify my honesty and their story will always glorify their lies. And maybe that’s why we can’t read the same story and maybe that’s why our story is finally over.