Chapter Text
The first chapter of this fic was published in 2015. I was a high school freshman (not even, it was the summer before). I had just finished Soul Eater and I had gravitated to Death the Kid. At first it was like any other show, but as I found the wonderful fanfiction around it, and specifically around KidLiz, it sucked me in and became one of my favorites. I got frustrated trying to find fanfictions that were exactly what I was imagining, so I told myself I should just write my own. I wanted to start with a one off so there wouldn't be too much pressure to write a solid plot. I wasn't sure if I could go through with actually killing off Kid in the story, so I decided to just publish the set up and decide later. June 2015 the first chapter was posted.
Instantly I hated it. I hated re-reading it. I thought it was horrible and that I had failed. My expectations for myself were so high someone with PhD in English couldn't have met them, much less a kid who didn't even know how to drive yet. I'd built up writing fanfiction as something I'd be good at, something I'd love to do and something that would make me happy. Instead I felt anxious. The idea that other people had read what I considered to be a horrible representation of myself was horrifying. I left it unfinished.
I tried again later. I told myself that the reason I couldn't post the next chapter was because I didn't know where to go from here, which was part of it but I'd already come up with the solution of posting an alternate ending. In February 2016 I posted an actual one-shot, a short idea that I didn't have to elaborate on. At the time, I wasn't proud of it. It still felt like it wasn't me. I was trying to shorten several creative ideas into a quick one-off. I was selling myself short.
I gave up on writing fanfiction, but I continued reading it. I joined new fandoms and read tons of amazing stories and pretended that this fic wasn't sitting here abandoned.
Throughout high school I started slipping. No one noticed because my grades weren't affected and I'd gotten good at hiding it. I was getting worse and worse. I'd spent so long trying to please everyone around me, being so worried with what everyone else thought of me. I didn't know who I was anymore. I tried to describe my personality and only came up with "smart" (not a personality trait) "geek" (your interests aren't who you are) and "nice" (what I could do for other people). It terrified me and I felt lost.
In 2018 I started college, and with it, a vow to myself that I would fight to get to know myself and to manage these feelings.
In October 2019 I started therapy for the first time. I'd done counseling before, but I'd always lied to them and told them what they wanted to hear. I was determined not to do that again.
My therapist diagnosed me with anxiety and major depressive disorder.
The monster I'd been grappling with finally had a name and I was more determined than ever.
My therapist helped me figure out what was holding me back and how to ignore it and go for it anyway. I started owning the fact that I'm "weird" and that's okay, that's cool even. I like that I'm "weird". I'd always wanted to make a voodoo-doll-style plush so I did. It wasn't an assignment, it was just for me. I call him Steven. He is my self-love voodoo doll and he reminds me to go easy on myself. I recreated a real picture of him in pixel form and made him my icon for ao3.
I started writing fanfiction again with a fic called Death Walks Among Us. I'm insanely proud of it. I brag about it in real life, not worrying about what someone will think about me writing fanfiction. The response it got was beyond anything I ever expected. This site is full of kind, supportive people and their words of encouragement have meant the world to me.
I decided that I didn't want this fic sitting unfinished, that even if it wasn't perfect, it didn't need to be. I left the first chapter, and it's notes, unchanged, a testament to how much my writing has changed.
It took five years to finish this fic, or more accurately, it took five years for me to reach a place mentally where I could finish it. I can't go back and give advice to young me, but I can give advice to any of you out there who are thinking of writing.
If only one person likes your writing that's enough, and it's okay if that person is you.
Thank you, rant over :D
-Anickov