By Ashley O’Hare
I live in fictional worlds
because I despise the real one.
When bad things happen in this world,
there is no sunny side.
There is no happy ending waiting at the conclusion of the ride.
This agony will not build my character.
I will never reach what I am after.
Nobody is coming to save me.
There is no script for Act Three.
I was never trained to improvise—
I was raised to be constantly supervised.
If someone could write a character arc
where I heal my broken heart
and I prevent myself from falling apart,
then maybe I could take a spark
turn it into fireworks at the park
and make people smile in spite of the dark.
Maybe then I would like this world.