Raise your hand if you accidentally starred in a true crime documentary.

So… this one’s been locked in the vault for over a decade. Buckle up, besties.

When I was around 14 or 15, I got way too involved with someone who absolutely should’ve just been grading papers and minding their business. Spoiler alert: they were one of my teachers. Yep. Full-on lifetime original movie vibes, minus the dramatic music and commercial breaks.

Now before anyone calls the morality police—I know now how messed up that was. At the time, though? I thought I was grown. I thought I was powerful. I thought I was starring in my own coming-of-age indie film with lots of soft lighting and slow motion walks through the hallway.

In reality? I was a kid. With a predator. Wrapped up in a fantasy that should’ve never existed outside of bad fanfiction.

This confession isn’t about shock value. It’s about owning the chaos. The things we once thought made us cool, mature, or “different”… often came with a price we didn’t understand until later. I carried that secret like it was some twisted trophy—now I just want to set it down and walk away from it.

Healing looks different for everyone. For me? It starts with telling the truth. Even if it’s messy. Even if it makes people squirm.

So yeah. That happened. And I’m still unlearning everything that made me think it was okay.

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk. 🫠