When I watch a television show, I see a movie, or a read a book, I always root for:
- The Evil Queen / Regina (Once Upon A Time)
- The Beast (Beauty and the Beast)
- Alex Karev (Grey’s Anatomy)
- Arusigawa Juri (Utena)
And so on and so forth. I always root for…the Beast.
Why is that? Because I see myself in the Beast. I see myself in the villain; I see myself in the misunderstood, in the one who always had to work a little harder than the rest to be seen as good, to be as good; I see myself in the struggle.
As I continue on my journey of change, the more that I change towards the positive, the more my mind, my body revolts. Every time I embrace a clean, direct, and honest moment, my stomach revolts, my internal voice tells me:
“You can’t trust her. You can’t trust people. They always let you down. You know this.”
(I know it. I have always known it. And it always happens…but the only common denominator there is me. The faces change, the situations change, but I don’t, and maybe that’s the problem.)
So, I need to fight back, but sometimes, oh, sometimes, I find myself, in the tidbit hours of twilight, in the surrounding minutes of zero dark thirty…
And that voice, that silken, familiar voice, is so damn strong! It has been with me since I was practically just a child, born of some disjointed trauma of my adolescence, born from a dark place, and it has had years to make its mark in my ears, years to wear grooves into the patterns that my brain responds to, it has had so many, too many, years.
It always asks: “For who could ever love a beast?”
But, fight it I must. When the light of day comes and my broader senses are returned to me, I need to say it, aloud and in my heart, squeeze it into my palms, sing it out in the shower and in my car as I hurtle down roads and careen down passageways into my soul:
“Someone. She will. I don’t know her yet, but she will. She will.”
And between then and now, I have but one goal: to change this beast back into the woman that has been hidden underneath all these years.
For who could ever love this beast, indeed.
For who could ever love this woman.
(For who could ever love…me.)
Someone will. She will. She will.