A Word a Day

Day Six: Villain

        What makes a villain? What makes someone go bad? What causes people to find delight in hurting others?

        These age-old questions have been explored for thousands upon thousands of years, and yet society as a whole still seems to lack a definant answer. Sociopaths likely had a difficult childhood. Murders were likely hurt, physically, mentally, or emotionally by their victim or someone who held their victim dear. Dictators likely have issues with their mindset, or they were raced to have a cruel mindset. School shooters and bombers are usually bullied, sucidal children calling out in a desperate plea for help or crooked adults with a death wish. Large-scale terrorists are driven by their religon and lustful desires.

        As you can see, there are no connections between these motives.

        From my personal experience, a villain isn't necessarily evil; sometimes they're wayward heroes who lost their morals due to abuse, pain, or beliefs. This is the one fact that applies to all villains: they have the potential to be heroes if only they turn themselves around and allow themselves to see the light.

        For the longest time, I was blind to the light of the world, to forces as powerful as love and devotion. I knew nothing but pain, and as a result, I emitted pain upon everyone who I laid eyes upon. For years upon years, I played the role of a notorious villain, and yet I did not see myself as a villain. Instead, I saw myself as dishing out justice to all those seeking to harm me. I did what I did out of the desire to survive; I did it out of the desire to be healed.

        I was beyond the crimes listed above. I wrecked havoc wherever I went. Maybe it was a plea for help. Maybe I lost it. All I knew was that I hurt inside; I intended to do anything in my power to take that pain away. And I did. It's just that.... Well... My methods didn't quite work. Instead, I created more pain for myself and others, thriving with each volt of vengance that surged through my veins.

        What was it that gave this tiny, arrogant girl such infamy, you ask? The answer is simple. I had -- have -- powers. And not just the power to make it or break it in the world, either. No, my powers were far more incredible -- super, if you will. And superpowers plus pain equals nothing but trouble. I know that now; I wish I just knew that back then before I gave others such heartache.

        My name was April Frei. You know me by the alias of the Lunar Lady. I, however, prefer the name Duanzia, because I acknowledge that their is light and dark within us all, for neither can exist without the other. Most claim that the opposite is true; most believe that light and dark cannot coexist. But if it weren't for the darkness, we'd never know what a comfort light is. If it weren't for the light, we'd never understand the horror of being in the dark.

        There was a time when I flourished on the darkness, a time before I was saved by those who I considered the enemy. Not only did I find compassion, friendship, and even love within those who took away my freedom, but I also found something far more important. I found myself.

        My name is Duanzia. This is my story.