Villains Are Made, Not Born.
There’s this line in Wicked that really stuck with me. It’s not a flashy, quotable moment, but it’s a feeling that seeps into your bones: “No one mourns the wicked.” It’s ironic, really. Because I don’t think anyone is born wicked. Villains aren’t born. They’re made.
This year—2024—made me understand that more than ever.
You see, I’ve always been the good son. The obedient one. The one who stays out of trouble, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t chase after wild distractions. I followed the rules like they were sacred commandments. I believed that if I did everything “right,” life would reward me for it. And for a while, it felt like that might be true.
2023 was bliss. It was the kind of happiness you read about in books where everything just clicks into place. I was living it. I thought, “Finally, I’m being seen. Finally, the universe is giving me a break.”
Then 2024 hit me like a wrecking ball with no warning, no apology, and no way to prepare for it.
My mom passed away this year. It wasn’t long ago. And it wasn’t fair. If there’s one thing that defines my relationship with 2024, it’s unfairness. I already lost my dad in 2019, and that alone was enough to make me question everything. But this? Both of them gone now? How much is one person supposed to endure?
I tried to keep my head up, but how do you stay “good” when every good thing in your life keeps getting ripped away?
I used to think villains were just “bad people.” People who had bad hearts or bad souls. But now I see it differently. I see it for what it is. People break. People break when life keeps hitting them without pause, without reason, and without mercy. It’s not about being evil. It’s about being tired. Tired of giving everything and getting nothing. Tired of playing the part of the “good one” and still ending up with the short end of the stick.
And it’s not like I’m just being dramatic. I’m also living with a health ailment that doesn’t care if I’m tired, sad, or just plain done with it all. It’s there, lurking in the background, ready to strike at any moment. It’s the kind of thing that stays with you for life. Just one more constant reminder that nothing is truly in my control.
When you’re a kid, they tell you to be patient. They tell you good things come to those who wait. But at this point, I feel like patience is just another way of saying, “Keep suffering a little longer.” I’ve run out of patience. For people. For life. For everything.
This is how villains are made.
It’s not because they were born bad. It’s not because they want to be evil. It’s because they’re hurt. Hurt so badly that it stops feeling like pain and starts feeling like rage. And when you’re hurt long enough, being “good” starts to feel like a fool’s game. Why stay good if it doesn’t change anything?
I’m not saying I’m turning into a villain, but I get it now. I understand that version of myself that wants to be angry. I understand the part of me that wants to scream at the world, “Why me?! Why am I being punished for being good?” I’ve spent my life following the rules, doing what’s right, and being “the good one.” And here I am. No parents. A health condition that sits like a shadow behind me. And a year that feels like it was written by someone who wanted to see me suffer.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve thought about giving up on “being good.” It’s a lonely place to be when you feel like the world is against you. But then I think of Wicked again. I think about how Elphaba wasn’t actually evil. She was misunderstood. She was tired. She was pushed into a corner until she had no choice but to push back.
I’m not going to lie and tell you I’ve figured out the meaning of it all. I haven’t. I’m still in the middle of it, still trying to understand how I’m supposed to hold on when it feels like life keeps letting go of me. But maybe that’s what makes me human and not a villain. The fact that I still care. The fact that, deep down, I don’t want to be the person who gives in to the bitterness.
But if you’ve ever felt like I feel right now—angry at the world, hurt beyond measure, and on the edge of saying, “I’m done playing nice”—just know you’re not alone. Villains aren’t born. They’re made. And most of the time, they’re just people who were good until the world gave them too many reasons not to be.
I’m still fighting it. I’m still fighting me.
But I understand now.
ʙᴏɴɴᴇ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴛɪᴛ 