Alexa Spicer

A journalism student with an eye for beauty in the forms of photography and writing

[alexaspicer]

Inside the Mind of Attack On Titan’s AntiHero

Now that Attack on Titan has ended, fans are organizing their thoughts and trying to figure out how Eren Yeager went from the story's protagonist to an antihero. Though creator Hajime Isayama received some backlash for his ending, Attack on Titan is a brilliant masterpiece that begins and ends with Eren. Introduced as an innocent boy stripped of his freedom, the trauma he witnessed became the catalyst for his desire to kill all the Titans. However, by Season 4 Eren seems to lose sight of the world he and his friends dreamed of.

Attack on Titan is a bottomless rabbit hole that forces viewers to question where they draw their lines of morality and where it compares to Eren's. Eren seemingly becomes a genocidal monster, inconsiderate of human life and his friends. The final part of Attack on Titan provides everything fans need to know to uncover the truth behind Eren's heartbreaking rationale.

Eren’s Younger Years

By the end of Attack on Titan's first episode in Season 1, viewers are already aware of the haunting sights 10-year-old Eren had to suffer. His childhood innocence shatters with one destructive kick through the protective wall of his hometown, Shiganshina. Despite having a deep hunger to fight against the Titans, Eren's futile attempts to save his mother are useless. He can do nothing but watch as his mother's blood paints the familiar cobbled streets as she gets devoured by a Titan. Prior to the attack on Shiganshina, Eren longed to know a world free of the control and fear that came with hiding behind the walls. He yearned to break free from ignorance and feed his curiosity about the uncharted outside world, no matter how dangerous. The slaughter of his mother and the Fall of Shiganshina only further fuel Eren's rage and hatred toward Titans. Eren becomes a headstrong soldier with enough motivation to be annoying at times. This is the Eren that viewers become familiar with, and identify as a somewhat average anime protagonist. Viewers soon learn however, that he isn't just another soldier. As a Titan Shifter, Eren seems to be the key to uncovering the truth about the Titans and paving a path toward liberation.

In Seasons 1-3, Eren has an unwavering devotion as a Scout and Titan Shifter, even in the face of epic betrayals, guilt, and world-changing discoveries. Eren's perspective becomes irreversibly grim at the end of Season 3 during the medal ceremony. As Eren kisses Historia's hand, he sees Grisha's memories from the past and jolts into a state of shock and disbelief. Viewers witness Eren becoming paralyzed as he peers into Grisha's childhood and the night he murdered the Reiss family. At this point, viewers don't learn much else about this moment, and neither do the Scouts. However, unbeknownst to viewers, Eren saw much more than Grisha's past. The atrocities he sees are the defining moment of Attack On Titan's ending and Eren's ultimate change in demeanor.

Everything All At Once

Eren's self-isolation begins when he conceals the secret ability of the Attack Titan: seeing into the future. When Eren came into contact with Historia and her royal blood, he saw the harrowing future in its entirety. While all Titan Shifters can see memories of their predecessors, the Attack Titan allows the current holder to see memories of its future inheritors. Unable to freely explore future memories, the current Attack Titan can only see pieces that future inheritors show. Initially, viewers don't learn the extent of what Eren saw and just how immense of an impact it has on Eren's outward behavior. However, analyzing these scenes with the information gained by the end of the anime proves that when Eren kisses Historia, the sights of his gruesome future terrorize his thoughts.

Eren’s extreme character development is apparent the next time viewers see him later in the episode. As the Scouts approach the end of Paradis for the first time, Eren and Armin reach the dreamlike place they've only read stories about in Armin's book as kids. The Scouts revel with their toes in the vast ocean as Armin’s eyes swell with tears, and Mikasa reluctantly smiles in disbelief. However, Eren is surprisingly somber. Reaching the ocean alive was never guaranteed, let alone the existence of a body of salt water so large that merchants could never collect all its salt. A moment anticipated to be emotionally treasured was interrupted by Eren's dismal insight into what stands before them.

Eren begins his journey as a strong-willed boy desperate to break free from the Titans. However, his naive belief that freedom lived on the other side of the walls and childhood fantasy of living in a world free of titans, died in the basement he hoped had all the answers. Eren's world was more convoluted than he could've imagined and kissing Historia's hand only intensified this fact. Eren faced his hardships alone, and even though they slowly dimmed the fire he once had, he kept moving forward. He isolates himself by carrying this pain alone, and viewers never see the innocent glimmer in Eren's eyes again. Eren knows the measures he takes to trample his enemies, and he struggles to accept what he will do and wonder if it will even bring his vision of freedom.

Eren’s Passage to an Anti Hero

Season 4 of Attack on Titan puts Eren's inexcusable actions at the forefront, starting with his infiltration into Marley. Camouflaged as a wounded soldier, he manipulated and befriended Falco, a child. Just as his enemies had done to him before, he shared meals and sheltered under the same roofs with Marleyans. Despite admitting he knew he was the same as Reiner when he crossed the sea, he doesn't falter when he transforms in a crowded Marleyan plaza. Eren executed his attack on Marley, aware it would take innocent lives, including the oppressed Eldians surviving in Marley. Without deliberation or permission from his friends or the Scouts, Eren contrived this heinous plan, and its success depended on their cooperation to help him. Viewers watch Armin despondently use his Colossal Titan to breach enemy lines and recreate the same barbaric sight they suffered as kids.

The Scouts are angry, confused and desperate to understand what has come of their dear friend Eren Yeager. The Scouts accept that the Eren they once knew isn't hiding behind those now barren eyes as Eren continues forward with no intention of stopping. However, Armin and Mikasa can't seem to let go of their dear friend. Season 4 of Attack on Titan illustrates many heartbreaking instances where Eren relentlessly continues on the path of ruin while pushing the ones who love him farther away. In the final part of Attack on Titan, Mikasa chooses to save humanity by finally abandoning her will to protect Eren above all else. Mikasa unearths the strength to slash the final blow with her blade to end Eren's domination and the Rumbling, yet never loses sight of her love for him. Upon his death, the Scouts learn that despite all of the suffering Eren created, his true goal was to protect his loved ones. Eren's death revealed his past visits to people like Jean and Reiner but temporarily erased their memories of the conversations. While most conversations with Eren remain private, the people he spoke with appeared to be heartbroken for Eren and in disbelief of the outcome.

A Slave to Freedom

Although Attack on Titan keeps viewers in the dark about most of these past conversations, it reveals a heart-wrenching one between Eren and Armin. A flashback that doubles as a break from the bloodshed and a long-awaited moment between these best friends, it's an astonishing peek into Eren's mind. Immediately, Eren defeatedly admits that he went to any length to distance himself from his friends, even when he couldn't comprehend what he was doing. He tells Armin that as a result of the Founding Titan's powers, there is no past or future for him. Lost amidst the mess in his head, Eren suffers where everything exists all at once. He explains that when he connected with Founder Ymir in the Paths, Eren felt her love for King Fritz despite his torturous reign upon her. Although Eren says it's incomprehensible to him, it's clear Founder Ymir's heart has suffered for 2,000 years until someone came along to free her. Despite not knowing why, Eren informs Armin that the person who frees Founder Ymir is Mikasa. Ignorant of what Mikasa does, Eren says that the outcome of her actions is why he keeps moving forward with the Rumbling.

Enslaved by her love for King Fritz, Founder Ymir chose to fulfill the king’s exploitive desires above world security. Throughout Attack on Titan, Mikasa continuously prioritized Eren's protection, even in the wake of his crimes. However, it came to a point where Mikasa could no longer remain complacent under her love and allow Eren to continue world annihilation. Mikasa's internal struggles were apparent from the beginning of Season 4, but in the end, she found the strength to no longer protect Eren but instead kill him. Ymir's chains fall undone when Mikasa sets aside her eternal love for Eren and kills him with her blade for the sake of humanity. The parallels between Founder Ymir's love for King Fritz and Mikasa's love for Eren surmise that Mikasa's actions sparked the end for Ymir, seeing that her love can transcend King Fritz's evil desires. As a result, Ymir uses her powers to relinquish the world of Titans, thus introducing the opportunity for a hopeful future.

Eren will trample 80% of humanity before the Island Devils and others save the remaining 20% from a global massacre. Eren continued his blind trek forward with the acceptance that Mikasa's actions would bring an end to the Titans. When Armin pleads that they can find an alternative solution, Eren dejectedly admits he's tried and they can't. The numerous attempts at changing the future he saw from memories were unsuccessful, and everything is already determined. The future has and will unfold exactly how it appears in his memories, and no one can do anything to change that, including Eren. It's during these moments that Eren pathetically comes clean to Armin about his love for Mikasa and that imagining her with someone else kills him. He requests that Armin keep this between them because while Eren wants nothing more than to survive and live a long life with Mikasa, his time is almost up. He painfully suppresses his desire to survive in exchange for his loved ones to live as heroes and find peace.

Eren knew any civil resolution was hopeless after years of failed attempts to discuss peace, and he believed the Rumbling was the only choice for Paradis and his friends. The Scouts wouldn't trample on innocent lives in exchange for their security, even if their leaders believed them devils. The Eldians that Eren knew are honorable people who would rise to save the world that oppressed and silenced them. In an unselfish yet selfish way, Eren chose to suffer his last years alone and became the essence of the very thing he sought to destroy: an enemy. Knowing this path would be a hard reality for his friends to accept, he did everything he could to make them hate him. He attempts to minimize the suffering he puts his friends through because Eren believes this is the only way to save his friends from the Titan curse and the world's wrath. Eren paints himself as this callous murderer so his friends can shed the title of Island Devils to the heroes who stuck around to save humanity.

It's difficult to pinpoint why and how Eren went from an eager and morally just Scout to committing a laundry list of war crimes, especially when everyone except Eren is out of the loop. However, in the final part of Attack on Titan, viewers learn perspective altering pieces of information. His remorse for his future sins is evident in moments like Season 4, where Eren cries for forgiveness from Ramzi, a young boy he knew would die from the Rumbling. While Eren's crimes are unforgivable, he shouldn't be labeled a cold-hearted villain because he doesn't seek pleasure in killing or putting his friends in life-threatening situations. Eren selfishly values his friends and Paradis more than the world in a way the Scouts could never picture accomplishing. Just as Eren implies himself, he is a naive person who acquired the power to secure the resolution he believes is the lesser of two evils. Attack on Titan finishes Eren's story as a flawed antihero who reaches extreme lengths to save the reality he was born into, a cruel world devoid of freedom.

[alexaspicer]

There are weights shackled to my ankles. I know this for a fact because when I walk, I feel a relentless force rooting me to the ground. The sound of chains dragging behind me, a constant reminder that they exist with no intention of coming undone. 24 is a time where I should be running forward, sights set toward the sky, but lately I’ve barely been able to crawl. I wonder if the bruising on my knees is supposed to make me stronger.

November 3, 2022

Photo/Writing by Alexa Spicer

[alexaspicer]

The fire within me is dim, and it has simmered down to just a flicker. I’ve spent years desperately searching the surface for a cure, but I don’t know how much longer my body can keep up. I think these pills might be killing me. And I’m scared because maybe thats why they slide so easily down my throat.

May 16, 2022 l New Jersey

Photo/Writing by Alexa Spicer

[alexaspicer]

The more I try to dig myself out, the more I start to feel myself sink. And if I knew that there was a bottom, I promise that I would jump.

Gainesville, Fl.

Photo/Writing by Alexa Spicer

[alexaspicer]

I'm trying to find my footing in a reality that is wavering.

September 17, 2020 l New York

Photo by Alexa Spicer

[alexaspicer]

Sometimes I struggle to see the light. Other times, I will myself to leave my apartment, and walk three minutes to find it. 

October 14, 2020 l Gainesville, Fl. 

Photo by Alexa Spicer

[alexaspicer]

In This Jaded Mind of Mine

Photos/Writing by Alexa Spicer

To this day, my dad remembers the burden I carried as a little girl. He tells me that I was always hard on myself and that I haven’t changed. I camouflage myself as a highly functioning student at a top public university, while on the inside I am a slave to my mind. How long has it been since I’ve felt like this?

I stray back to the moments of training wheels and swings that sailed so high that they might break loose from their chains. The moments in class, reading a few paragraphs aimlessly and then realizing I understood nothing at all. The times in math class where I would take a glimpse of the question and surrender before I finished reading the instructions. Or the trickles of sweat that would build as my teacher passed out the timed multiplication sheets with only a minute to complete. About forty seconds of that minute was spent re-reading the equations long enough for it to stick. I often would fake pencil movements so the kid next to me wouldn’t notice I was flustered in my spiraling self-loathing thoughts. I refuse to count the hours I spent in my seat telling myself that math just wasn’t my interest. But after lunch and four topics later, I acted as though I haven’t spent the entirety of my life telling myself that subject after subject.

Staring at classroom posters in a daze and selectively listening to the ticking clock on the wall felt like a choice that I never made. Only when the class reacted to a joke or the sound of a textbook closing would bring me back to the present. How long was I gone? Where did I go? I could never bring myself to recall. When I would return, I would feel a chunk of my spirit sink a little deeper. I hope what they just covered won’t be on the test.

Homework was a task that I either spent hours struggling to complete or not at all. I later realized that I subconsciously sought zeroes on an assignment that I never attempted, rather than a 40% on something I showed an honest effort. It hurt less that way.

 I remember one night, in particular, spent trying to teach myself topics for an Algebra II final exam that I had the next day. My mom just picked me up from a tutoring session with a soft-spoken old woman she found on Craigslist from the Panera Bread down the street. My tutor made everything look so solvable, that maybe even I could do it. And when she would turn to look at me and ask me if I had any questions, I would snap out of the one spot of the paper I was staring at and remembered where I was. I would shake my head no because that was less scary than telling her I forgot to pay attention. On the car ride home, I would face the window. I knew I had to lie when my mom asked me how tutoring went because I could feel her pride in scraping up enough money for those few hour sessions from the passenger side. That night was overwhelming with a barely used textbook and study guides open on the king bed in the bedroom that my mom and I shared. Hands tugging at the roots of my hair and my shirt becoming soaked with sweat, there became a point where I just couldn’t bare the feeling anymore and I called my dad in tears. He told me what he always told me, to stop being so hard on myself. The self-deprecating thoughts always ended up winning in the end and I’d call it a night. I needed a 58% on the exam to pass Algebra II. I scored a 60.

For the entirety of my short life, I blamed these obstacles on lacking motivation or the capacity for learning. I felt stupid. Remaining planted in reality was few and far between. I would stay present during class lectures by the luck of my draw, and I would enter and exit conversations at the mercy of my mind.

As my college graduation creeps closer, math and science classes are remnants of a cruel dream. Still, my mind is overcrowded with a dense wall of fog and voices that take pleasure in talking faster than I can think. I wait for the rare moments in between. The instances of clarity where I feel capable to respond to my friends and check my assignments’ due dates. And one by one, as I begin to complete the chores I’ve neglected, the smoke rolls in, and that moment is gone. It only took me twenty years to realize that not everyone is wired this way. And that only I, can overcome this jaded mind of mine.  

Author’s note:

These images were taken in Mount Tabor, N.J., a place that encompasses much of my innocent childhood memories that I hold close to my heart. Visiting my old neighborhood and elementary school down the block from my home feels like a distant dream. 

[alexaspicer]

Money: A Never-Ending Chase

Photo/Writing by Alexa Spicer

My later childhood years were characterized by the occasional after-school trip to the House of Hope food pantry and sharing a bed with my mom in an apartment home with just enough space to provide the bare necessities.

Apartment dwelling and dinners found through handouts wasn’t something I was familiar with until the summer of 2008.

My life up until that year was the crunching of leaves beneath my feet in the brisk New Jersey afternoons and knocking on the doors of the kids who also lived in an isolated, suburban neighborhood. We were blanketed with the love and protection of parents who were comfortable in the shell of the home they built for us.

Our dream-like trance, the definition of a nuclear family, was rattled when my parents decided to take my dad’s business to Florida. The soft cushion of money that my parents had tucked away for safekeeping didn’t anticipate a divorce so quick that left a family of four shattered into unequal parts.  

My brother, older than me by three years and I moved in with my mom. My mom got a full-time job for the first time since she gave birth to my brother. My mom’s work, a laundromat located 45 minutes from our apartment, was now the norm.

My dad tells me about the nights he laid awake, eyes filled with the pools of guilt triggered by the failure to pay child support through working minimum wage jobs. It took him a few years of court dates and his license being revoked to realize he couldn’t help us from Florida. He retreated back to New Jersey, in an effort to rebuild his business that would eventually take years, in an effort to give us money. Our relationship turned into long-distance.

It’s as if somebody had taken the remote and flipped the channel, forcing us to play the parts of a life that we were not prepared for.

Relocating to Jensen Beach, Florida when I entered the sixth grade made me feel like an outsider. A beach-town overflowing with retirement homes and middle-class families.

Our apartment was not in route for bus transportation to my school, and my mom often worked early morning and late nights, which didn’t allow her to drop me off at school. With no other option and an unrepayable favor from a concerned family, I would be dropped off early in the morning at my friend Justine Bur’s house.

A bright one-story home in a spacious suburban neighborhood that also housed many of our classmates, I would ride to and from school on her route, bus 120.

I almost felt like the Bur’s fourth daughter. I had all the perks Justine had. We would make the fifteen-minute walk from the back of her neighborhood every morning and afternoon.

After school, we would raid her kitchen pantry. I would always open the cans of tuna they kept in stock specifically for me because I was the only one who enjoyed eating it. Her mom would make dinner for six because I stayed past their dinner time and I know she didn’t want me to be hungry. I would even fill my worn-down pillowcases with candy from her neighborhood every year on Halloween because it was labeled as the place where people would hand out whole chocolate bars.

My mom would pick me up from Justine’s at around 7 p.m. during the school week. Justine’s home was my home every day for three years. It took about two years of doing this until our classmates figured out that we weren’t sisters. And I was about twelve years old before I started realizing that money would never be in abundance for my family and I, and it took even longer to accept it.

When I entered high school, my mom had us move into a smaller apartment that was within walking distance to my school, and for the first time in years, I was independent. It felt good.

Having a job is something I am no stranger to; it began at 16 years old when I wanted cash to keep up with the activities within my friend group, but this never bothered me. Ever since I got my first job, there hasn’t been a time in my life since then where I wasn’t employed.

As high school caps and gowns were being checked out, there was no bulleted list of plans I could pursue after graduation. As a first-generation college student, it’s as if the Universe had already made the decision for me, after witnessing the relentless battle for money my parents continue to fight.

To this day, my parents remind me of the importance of education and paths it would otherwise reveal to me. I let the past be my teacher and I learn from my parent’s mistakes.

Being a full-time student at the University of Florida and being a part-time waitress, can be a difficult tray to balance.

“Did you go home for Thanksgiving break?”, is a question I often get every fall semester.

And every fall semester I decide to nod instead of saying no because “no,” usually ends with me going into detail about why I can’t really go home.

Being financially independent means deciding between giving up studying to pick up an extra shift at work. It means telling my mom I can’t come home for Thanksgiving because I was scheduled the night before and the morning after the holiday. It means a four-bedroom apartment that is usually bursting with the life of my roommates being empty during the break. It means getting to work ten minutes early because I anticipated traffic but later realized Gainesville is no longer occupied by its student body for the week. It means growing up too fast for the sake of surviving in the race we refer to as getting an education.

Many students grow up this way, and we sometimes find ourselves tied up in self-pity.

There are many instances where I fall into this trail of negative thinking but more often, I am reminded of how these constant battles for necessities help to build the foundation for a strong-hearted individual.

Being financially independent means freedom from others. It means for the opportunity of having a quiet Thanksgiving when my mom and brother travel to Gainesville to bring the home-cooked feast to me. It means having an opportunity to breathe and sit in silence as opposed to the rowdiness living with other college students. It means having empty roads and short lines when Gainesville is unshackled from the weight of its students. It means getting to experience a journey that is different from a typical student and still getting to the finish line at the same time. It means taking the time to love the hand you were dealt with and learn from the process of being different.

This is an extension of another shorter piece I wrote here.

[alexaspicer]

The Time in Between the Silence of Damaged Birds and Them Leaving the Nest


Writing and Photo By Alexa Spicer


On mornings where my alarm only signals the start of a day where the birds don’t sing, I weep. I shut my eyes and paint a pros and cons list of what would happen if I mentally checked out for today. Would anyone notice? Fifteen minutes pass and I will myself to get out of bed because one absence makes for a simple excuse, but three attracts the eyes of those who only want short-lived entertainment. My professors might start asking questions.


I do give myself an extra minute of silence, in a room filled with an array of blue hues that may, or may not mimic how I feel in the bare shell of my own body. During those moments, I imagine a world where I could lay in the comfort of my two cats with the only glow I get, being through the rays from the sky that escape my blinds. I feel numb, and I don’t allow myself to feel shame in pitying myself today.


Because every day, the world will spin on relentlessly whether I am absent or not, and here, we are short of handouts. Like most days, today I am present, but not so bold, for the sake of taking it breath by breath, in order to keep my heart trudging along in search of the reason why the sun rises after witnessing such tragedies.

[alexaspicer]

I am untidy brown hair at 2 a.m. in the company of my two cats with nothing but a nightstand light on. I am the struggle of biking up a semi-steep hill on University boulevard to make it to class at the University of Florida. I am the girl behind you who is tapping her foot anticipating the professor’s class dismissal. I am the Spotify user who purposely clicks on random songs to accidentally find her next favorite. I am the aspiring photojournalism student that was silently manifesting a 20 percent tip when I served you and your friend for dinner on Friday night. I am in the endless practice of trying to minimize the amount of harm I cause to our home - planet Earth. I am the green eyes in the crowd of thousands listening to my favorite musical artists. I am the soft motion of eyelids closing under a weighted blanket after a long day. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a student. I am a friend. I am a lover. I am boundless. I am the face behind this blog.

[alexaspicer]

“Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” 

-Dylan Thomas

[alexaspicer]

My childhood years were characterized by after-school trips to the food pantry, constant “put that back we can’t afford it” and sharing a bedroom with my mom in a two-bedroom apartment home.

The relentless struggle for money is something that I am no stranger to.

Living paycheck to paycheck, even in college, although a burden, has gifted me a different kind of strength that may have otherwise remain untouched.

[alexaspicer]

Three hours before this photoshoot, I was sitting in my 8 a.m. photojournalism class, my heart still trying to calm itself after my bike ride to campus. Twelve other students and I were waiting in our swiveling office seats to check out the university’s rental Canon T3i Rebel digital cameras. I’ve had just one camera up until this moment, a cheap machine gifted to me one Christmas during high school. The rest of the class period consisted of our professor's expectations for our beginner's photography work. In summary, our professor basically told us that we must sleep next to our cameras for the rest of the spring semester. Our first assignment: play with the camera’s settings. Holding my new best friend for the next four months, I felt this persistent itching to go outside and get started; so, I did. These pictures of my roommate Holli are the result of my first time playing with the manual exposure settings on this foreign device that I hope one day will guide me through my professional career.