I've tried to write my story several times but I always ignored the need to scribble my thoughts down. Who would want to read the random thoughts of a misfit; an outcast? I know I wouldn't want to impose on anyone so I just didn't jot my thoughts down. However, I've come to realize that being on the outside looking in has given me certain insights that one wouldn't otherwise have. 

I'm changing and I don't know what to make of it. This isn't a story about a girl saving the world. It's a story about a woman learning to accept who she is; all of who she is. With so much going on and so many things expected of us it is easy to think that imperfection is the root of all evil but what if not accepting yourself is the true evil?

Ever since I was little I was different. Partly, it was because of my chaotic childhood but mostly, it was me. I used to dream of traveling to other realms and being other people. I'd imagine being a princess with an army to command or an adventurer who was on the quest to save the world. My dreams were the gateways to these realms and I wished fiercely that I could stay in those worlds I loved.

Maybe, my wishing caused the disease or maybe the disease caused the wishing. Either way, I was diagnosed with narcolepsy when I was in high school. The ability to connect with people faded and I drifted in my imaginary worlds. I found the normal high school adventures to be meaningless. I didn't date and I had few friends. All I wanted to do was sleep. I hung on because my family needed me but I didn't want to be needed. I didn't want to be anything.

That was ten years ago. Since then, I've struggled with being alive. During those ten years I began to realize that my trips into the dreamworld were more real than my day life. I became obsessed with learning more about what I began to call the Shadowlands.