You ask why the Moon murdered the Sun. But have you noticed no one else does, not even the Sun himself? I’m the villain; it’s just expected I’ll do something horrible. No one asks why a crazy person does something crazy, after all. They know these things just happen. And sure, I may not be a villain in the traditional sense, but I’m still the wretched one, the insane one, the cruel one. I’m still the antagonist, even if the protagonist loves me. So you know why I haven’t told you the truth? Because no matter how you tell the story, they’ll still decide I’m its villain. There’s no point in fighting it. I don’t have that kind of energy. He wanted me to be the villain, too, though for a different reason. At least with him, it was a good thing. Something that felt worthwhile, a role I could be praised for playing. But still, it wasn’t really my choice. I wanted– Well. It doesn’t matter what I wanted. Maybe I never really knew anyway.

My point is, stop asking. No one cares but you.