Something has become clear to me: I find that I am less and less interested in watching white-centered stories, particularly white Americans.
Even if you’ve known me for years, I’ve been successfully deceiving you this entire time.
I debated talking about this, but I’m generally very open about it, and I feel strongly about being open about it. So… hi. I’m your friendly neighborhood writer, and I’m mentally ill.
The summer before 7th grade, I wrote my very first story, longhand in one of those black and white composition notebooks. I was eleven years old, and I was writing fanfic before I knew what fanfic was.
For a lot of people, knowing that Endgame will likely fix things weakened the impact of the ending of Infinity War. I was not one of them.
I’ve started trying to learn how to draw. It’s one of those things that I’ve always thought I was terrible at.
Thanks to social media reminding us of what we posted a year ago on a given date, I was reminded that The Last Jedi came out about a year ago. And I realized… I haven’t watched since I last saw it in the theaters.