I love superheroes. I could watch the avengers over and over. I own all the batman movies on DVD. I can quote most of the green lantern and a picture of the hulk is the wallpaper on my Iphone. When I was little, I dressed up as cat woman for Halloween. They were so strong, and brave, the people who stop evil in its tracks. They created the justice that was so needed and were always there to save the day. But you wanna know the main reason I loved superheroes? Because I wished they were real.

?I wish batman would have been there to swoop me out of the bad guys’ arms, rip his hands off my body, pick me up from the woodchips where they left me, like a piece of garbage and heal my broken body. I wish he would have spoken up for me when I had no voice, or just ran over those assholes with his batmobile, serving true justice, made me safe.

I wish captain America would have grabbed that razor blade out of my shaking hand. I wish he would have used his superstrength to fix the smile, clean off the blood and put a big band aid on my legs, held his shield up against the vicious insecurities and self doubts that cut as deep as the knife, and were the drive for so much self hatred.

I wish Spiderman would have caught me with his web as I fell down into a deep deep depression. Swooped me up and made me feel safe, and loved.

But they didn’t. Here’s the reality: you don’t have some masked crusader with superpowers to save you. And no prince will decide you’re worth it.

They tell you it’s not rape if you don’t say no .people that cut are weak. That you’re too ugly or too stupid, too nerdy, you’re fat or anorexic or weird. Too much acne, your boobs are too small you’re a s*** .a failure a gay. Too skinny or stuck up or too much of a freak .a prude. a Goth. a goodie good. You’re too black or too white. The music you listen to is weird, the clothes you wear are all wrong. They tell you “drink this you’ll feel better.” I hate you. I want you. I love you. You’re worthless. They’ll tell you it’ll get better, just hold on a little longer, wait a little more.

And I’m here to tell you that they’re wrong. You will be teased and tortured. They’ll pick on what hurts most and if they knock you over they’ll kick you while you’re down. They’ll promise to be there then they wont. It will hurt and break you. They will take your virginity, identity, belongings and happiness. You will make mistakes. Sometimes you’ll look stupid. You’ll get rejected be alone to much and do anything to feel wanted again. Sometimes you’ll drink too much. You’ll lose friends. You’ll be weird and unorthodox and doubt yourself. You’ll be your own worst critic and the critic of those you look up to most. Things will be taken, spilled, shared and lost. But the one thing that can remain is your will. They will never take the fight out of you. The anger that drives you and the hurt, to be a great person and to do great things. The strength. The spirit.

So maybe that’s why there’s no super man. Why the cape hangs on the hook, the radioactive spiders and feats up super strength all just accessories from a comic strip. Maybe the reality is you have to be your own superhero.