Writing is magical like that.

When I was in middle school, I spent a lot of my time in a fantasy world. I was aware of reality, but my fantasy world was a lot more exciting. And comforting. This world consisted of my characters. The characters that I created through the stories I wrote.

I still remember them. There was Lauren, the protagonist of the story "Those Were the Days". Lauren was everything I wasn't. She was popular and outgoing. She always had a boyfriend but not because she was kind of whore. She was just cool like that. Lauren was also intelligent, a good kid to her awful parents and was responsible and positive.

I created Lauren during a rough time of my life. My parents had just gotten divorced. My way of coping with that was by writing. I didn't talk. I didn't argue. No one could get through to me. Court ordered counseling did nothing. I had completely blocked out reality during that time.

I have sense emerged from that fantasy world (somewhat, lol). I feel myself becoming more and more like Lauren every day. Lauren's first love was this guy named Brandon. Guess the name of my first love's first name? I wrote this story in middle school and never knew my ex's name but thought it was craaaaazy how the names match up. After a crazy break-out with Brandon (he cheated on her with her best friend, that loser!) Lauren eventually became great friends with the new guy in town. His name was Kenneth. Guess what guyBFF's name is?

Writing is magical like that. While it may be unbeknown to the writer, the past, present and future can all somehow intertwine and create lessons for the writer. Most of my stories are about teenagers who are desperate for love. I wrote these stories because I too was always yearning for male attention. Writings these stories seemed to pacify me. They made me forget that in the real world my life was falling apart. Making Lauren and Brandon fall in love was like placing a band-aid over the wound of my heart that my parents left when they divorced. Their story was the medication for the pain that I endured every day in middle school. The name calling, the jokes, the teasing...all healed by a swig of my fantasy syrup.

In the end of that story after a dramatic suicide attempt, Lauren realized that she had love the entire time. What she was seeking for, she had the whole time. You see, Lauren never really wanted to die. She  didn't have the perfect life, but she had love. Her suicide attempt was a cry for help.

Her suicide attempt saved me.

How is it possible that the character I created could turn around and save me?

Writing is magical like that.