As a teenager, I suffered from severe depression and formed a strong bond with the character Garfield and his outlook. It’s sad but reading Garfield anthologies obsessively was the only thing that made me feel normal. And it eventually took on something of an erotic fixation. To avoid feeling like a sicko, I drew pictures of Garfield with a woman’s– think Pamela Anderson circa 1991– body and Garfield’s head, so that I was assured that my fixation wasn’t with animals or repressed homosexuality. This Garfield/Pam hybrid still had the same biting wit and acerbic outlook– And tended to cut herself in self-loathing while wolfing down a lasagna to fill the void after sleeping with drawings of a much more handsome and muscular version of myself. These drawings eventually evolved into erotic fan fiction starring Garfield and myself. In my head, Garfield still has a woman’s body but someone reading the stories would think I’m having sex with regular Garfield. I killed off Jon in a jealous rage. I didn’t touch Odie, I enjoy his companionship and don’t mind if he watches. The stories are your pretty basic wish fulfillment stuff, balanced with the self-loathing rants. I’ve been doing this near daily for years, and I have a substantial amount of writing I keep buried in eight different folders. My girlfriend stumbled across them by accident when they came up in a search and is pretty freaked out. How can I show her I’m just a normal guy with a weird outlet for my psychological problems, and not some kind of sicko?