Hello everyone.

 I wish to say, “Nice to meet you,” but I haven’t introduced myself yet, and that’s the problem. When someone is given a chance to make their voice heard without silly algorithm restrictions, tiers, and rule traps after ages, they might be clumsy, as I am now. Still, I want to believe that what matters is the stories themselves and want to say, "Nice to meet you." I’m a philologist; trust me, I know how annoying language issues or someone who is frozen to speak can be. I definitely don’t want to be more annoying, so I’m beginning [song]

Likewise, I said I am a philologist, and so I was. It’s just one of my proficiencies, like the other 54 ones. And it’s not really that I am a monument to success in each one. But I'm used to it.  You get used to it when you feel fear of failure a million times. When it comes to fear, it's also true that I’m deadly scared of getting negative reactions from you or worse, getting nothing; a deafening silence. I’ve been experiencing that kind of deafness in every inch of it. Not with a known way but the way that vicious circles, millions of broken promises, dozen of faces seemed like peaceful behind their real intentions, people looked like helpful before their ghosting plans and so on. 

You see? How fragile I am, actually. So you can call me "the fragile monster" for now. I said so because I feel that a part of me has become a monster. Because while some part of me is making some revenge plans, the other one is here and believes in something bigger. I don’t know which one is right or which is going to save my life, but I have to try this. Maybe the best revenge is to tell about them, reveal them, since it will also save me from the burden of the secrets that I haven’t told even to my family for four years. In a far place, to totally strange people. People who are also from different cultures, speaking other languages and living in far-off countries. I saw nothing but betrayal from mine.

It will be a long story and not easy to tell. I always hate that my way of life depends on someone else’s choices or interests. Ironically, it has been mostly. I have no chance other than hoping that you   will notice me, hear me, and connect with me with the feelings. I hope I found my people. At the end, everybody looks for their people. I made my peace with it. There is no point in hating the whole world. Especially when the world doesn’t care about it.  But someone must do this, I mean, this caring thing. The news is shocking; it is mostly us who will do this, ourselves. Or else how would I be the person if I didn’t keep the word that I gave that little girl? Although she came a long way, it turns out this is not enough yet. So I must speak on behalf of both me and her. Writing is my only weapon. Even if it feels horribly wrong, insufficient, stupid, silly, or ridiculous. Because if I wait to be perfect to begin or for the right time, I’m afraid I won’t be able to ever do it. Hence, consider this a kind of introduction with baby steps. I hope you and I will be story-friends which I made up it totally myself now.

Next time, I will come with the first incidents of my story, which means that both the monster and the other sides of me will come up. The little girl? She is already here.

NOTE: I added images into the text maybe a million times and then deleted them and changed them. I didn't decide which version was the best. Publishing this story was more important than aesthetics. So, if it seems poor to you, sorry. Next time I will do much better.