I am a demigod. I am a reptile. I am capable of destruction. I am also capable of falling in love.
Although I am not cautious with buildings, cars, or people, I am cautious with my story. It is mine and I should be allowed to tell it. So before Us Weekly or In Touch gives you a two-page exposé, I think I should speak about my two weeks with Pete Davidson.
I try to stay close to home. Home for me is the ocean right outside of Japan. I’m a homebody. But the US Open was happening, and I’ve never been, and so, whatever, I went to New York.
If you know anything about New York, you know that Pete Davidson is there. And when you are as tall as the buildings and have supernatural powers of sight and scent, you can find him within seconds. But I like to think that we found each other.
And I want this to be very clear. There are no inside sources. I am not speaking through my reps. I am not going to downplay anything.
This was not a “casual friendship.” We did not “keep it light.”
We fucked. We screamed at each other. We went to a Knicks game, and I had my hand on his lap. It was everything and then it was nothing. I was unprepared for the magic and brevity of Pete. For two weeks, I felt like one of the buildings I used to burn. Then once the US Open wrapped up, I was a stale pile of ash where a building once stood.
I am naturally a chaotic reptile. I level Tokyo one day and then defend it with my entire heart the next. Pete, even to my standards, sent me over the edge. I went back to Tokyo and started eating blond men. Anyone with dyed blond hair. I ate them up. When I would normally knock over buildings and send freeway-sized streams of fire out of my mouth, I found myself screaming “men are trash” and working my way through the Tokyo nightclub scene.
Being thirty stories high and ten thousand pounds, the nightclub scene wore on me quickly. It is hard to make connections with the loud music, the drinking, and my head and ears being, like, 250 feet away from anyone talking to me. Also, every nightclub I entered, I immediately destroyed with my body. Without even trying, I killed innocent people. So, yeah, there were a lot of things keeping me from re-entering the dating world.
One night, looking out at Mount Fuji, where I fought King Kong a few decades back, I realized what was happening. I, Godzilla, King of Monsters, was destroying myself. What I used to do to cities, I was doing to me. And you know who would have hated that? Pete. And even though I could have ripped Pete in half and thrown him across the Pacific, a part of me didn’t want to let him down.
It took a while, but I’m back to me again. I am very literally crushing it.
Pete is a great guy. Such a great guy. I think, emotionally, it is best that I never see him again. Like, even a picture of him will cause me to spiral out of control? But I wish him nothing but happiness. And health. And love. I love him.
Pete, I love you.