The thing that i really love about our sessions is the trust: or, time to be released into the wild

In lectures, they tell me what I should and shouldn't do. Don't trust people; trust me, don't drink, don't speak to strangers. Horrible things may happen. Don't. Trust us, you're smart, you're all brilliant and young and independent.

I'm not even remotely interested in hearing you, ambiguous and undefined, faceless and nominal. You've said it a million times, and I'm tired of it. What I do- will happen, and I'll make my own decisions. I don't trust contradictory advice, your own contrary judgment, and you make me uncomfortable.

Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to be like you or completely different?
You say that I'm capable of making my own choices. It's only something about your voice that sounds different when you're telling me what to do.

Let me clarify.
Going is different from coming, loving is different from unhealthy obsession, and I'll do what I want and what I feel like.
I'll do what's right for me.

There is, however, considerable stigma attached to the phrase 'doing as you please'. It is considered-
immature, thrill seeking, a sign of a personality on the verge of disintegration, heedless, reckless, in pursuit of pleasure without a cautionary eye and careful hand.
I only think the flaw in it is that I trust myself too much.
I do believe, however, that the people who listen to you distrust themselves too much. I am not afraid of what may happen. It may horrify me, disgust me, fill me with hatred of the world and self loathing, but that is a different thing than being afraid of what might happen. Of hesitating. And even though I may not like the end result, I, most importantly, trust my judgment.
It is only an extension of my beliefs, of my values, and of my common sense, after all.

It's part of me. How could I not trust myself?

I think-
just because I'm young doesn't mean that I haven't been through as much emotional trauma as you, as many bad things, exposed to as much horror. It isn't indicative of what a person can go through, or the lengths to which they can suffer. It doesn't mean that I make worse choices or that I don't know as much about the end result as you do.
Then again, maybe I don't.
But maybe you've lost perspective, as a faceless, nameless lecturer, and nothing in the world will ever be the same it was 16 years ago, and that there is no one in the world more different or separate than you and me.

Maybe.

I don't want to explain myself to you.
I don't want to tell my history to you.
And at this stage of life, I shouldn't have to.
I don't want to sit here and listen to your message, take your pamphlets, pretend that you're important, so important to me. You are just one more person, with perfectly composed and rounded sentences.
You're very politically correct.
You're very clever, with smooth statements and reassuring smiles.
You're very, very bland.
You're very smug.
You're very caring.

Consider this an official rejection. Consider this my letter of resignation, to you, as one of your listeners and as one of your people and as one of just another long line of naive young women that you see so clearly and cleanly.
You and I and me and them; we are different, and separate. We are so far away from each other that we might as well be standing on different continents, staring each other down across oceans and seas.

Because that's all that separates us. A sea of faces, exactly like mine(to you).

Can I be-
almost(possibly) eating,
and settled, confident, pleased with my weight?
could I possibly be happy?
Is it unreasonable to think that I would be fine?
Really;
You should-
love me the way I am, happy the way I hate you, disliking everything about this,
as far as I don't care.
No one tells you the truth except the oldest people I've ever known.
They have nothing more to lose. They have almost nothing more to gain. They cling to life with quiet desperation. Living is so valuable, and joy is something to be treasured.
They're not always honest, but always illuminating. The truth is in their actions, you see.

You, particular you, rehash the same platitudes as always. When I return, you'll still be mouthing the same words.

Seriously-
the only one I listen to, in the end, is me.
When it comes to me, I only ask one person.
Because I'm-
sort of self-centered
and I love myself best
and I
Wouldn't hurt the person that I love the most.
Would you?

Wanted

Explain:
There are a million things to write about, but I feel (I think) it's too ambitious, too overextended and I wouldn't tell anyone this much in the beginning anyway.

I like comic books. Not graphic novels, even though the lines between them are blurred and imperfectly drawn.
That's not right, either. They're so often the same things these days.
I digress, though.
Comic books meant different things to me, then. They meant something dizzyingly intense and unreal, sparking the imagination, flicking images. (The store near my house always smelled like something unidentifiable, indescribable. I still don't know what that is.) They were a community on their own, a select group with unknown knowledge, maturity, and full of trivia.
A fact: I love trivia.

Extrapolate: I feel like so many people use graphic novels to escape the stigma of being fond of comic books, make it smarter, smoothly palatable, easily digested and understood. The truth is, that's not my excuse at all. That wasn't the reason for my fascination. I wanted to be so much on the other end of the spectrum, but I kept missing it.
The point is-
I wanted to make them.

I remember when I was younger thinking it would be easier, but it never does, really.
Being cynical just allows you to see the world more clearly, but that's not it. The mistake wasn't all of mine. As much as I sometimes believe it, other people aren't perfect. They have awkward moments, make mistakes and are generally flawed.

Superheroes are unreal, impressive and amazing. They're visceral and full of wonder. People find them easy to hate. They shift characteristics with the times, decades past and they acquire the traits we most value in that decade, serve as living monuments of those mistakes. They evolve when we change our standards.
The women go from passive to independent, break down the business world, determined and mistaken. They're smart, witty, and full of conviction.
They'll probably always change. That, alone, not full of faded remnants of old glory, old art and limited stories make them important.

Ask anyone. Superman's too perfect to be really human- he's too familiar to be truly alien. It's hard to love someone whose flaw is his lack of one. He's bulletproof, after all.
People don't want perfect creatures; they want something slightly off kilter, but still struggling, smart and fighting. They want ingenuity and determination, the reasoning behind the mission.
Today's superheroes fight against so much more than just incredible enemies. They fight against the repercussions of their actions, the fallout of powers and the balance of the world and the people they care about. They win the world, and lose their friends, family. They get sued. They make public features, have lawyers, and deal with political correctness.
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, trying to defend or just plain summarizing.

I can't say comics changed my life, because I don't know anything for sure.
I used to want to be a comic book artist.
I don't know what I want anymore, but it's probably not that or maybe it is. I took my art classes because they were easy, because I liked the teacher, because it wasn't what I really wanted. Maybe if I took sewing classes, I wouldn't be here. Kids never know what they want. They just want everything, even when they aren't good at it.
I remember saying to myself, just five more years. You can give it up then. It's been about three.
Just two more years. You give up that idea then.