Connecting the present to the past: I think I’m evil.
I think I know another reason why I think that now: it’s because I seem to be allergic to love. The thought of it happening to me actually causes me mental anguish. Even if it’s from a possible future pet.
In stories, you know a character is evil because love hurts them (love conquers all!) and is essentially their weakness. They either don’t deal with it in a healthy way, or deny it, or whatever. I mean, heck. It’s even there in Harry Potter: Voldemort simply doesn’t understand love, and some forms of it even repel his formidable powers.
And so the fact that love causes severe dissonance in my head—heck, platonic friendships do that—must mean that I’m evil. Maybe an Anti-Hero at best.
Yeah, I know, it’s fiction, it’s not true… probably. But fiction can be a very cultural thing, and… well.
Of course, not all fiction is this way. An example that comes to mind is Thomas from The Dresden Files, who is quite literally hurt by love, and man, is it complicated. But at least he can love without dissonance, even if contact with love burns him.
I dunno. What are you going to do?