I gave this piece a lot of thought during a run yesterday. Part of me wanted to hold off on it because the whole thing still feels too...sensitive.
But the other part that apparently runs my life now told me to stop stalling and just put it out there.
I was worried about sounding like an asshole. But when it comes to other people's feelings and perceptions, the truth is rarely black and white.
My job as a writer is to tell the truth, not just what’s popular or easy, and people take from it what they will.
It won’t change my life or the love I give or receive. Like I’ve said before, two things can be true at the same time:
You can make a choice that looks cruel from the outside…
and still know it was the only one that made any sense.
So here we go.
A few years ago, I was casually scrolling through a San Diego Comic-Con webpage with a couple of family members. I remember thinking, Huh, that looks fun. I wish I’d known when the tickets went on sale.
Back then, the sweet summer child that I was didn’t have a clue I was looking at the Hunger Games of nerd culture.
But I promised myself: Next year for sure.
And then next year happened, and – shocker – I completely missed the sale date. Whomp whomp.
But 2026… ohhhh, this was the year.
I had no plan, no budget, or any freaking clue, honestly. I didn’t know the process or rules, much less that badge-buying requires sheer luck.
Didn’t matter.
I.was.going.
As a writer, I wanted to be in the same room with creatives and storytellers who compose, dissect, and discuss stories, not just consume them.
You know…my people.
But then reality flicked me in the back of the head, as it tends to do.
