Writing is My Escape

It’s a strange thing, having your life change so drastically in such a short period of time. One minute you’re a popular, healthy, little girl, happy as can be. The next, you’re the weird kid, 100 pounds overweight from inactivity, who is absent all the time or is too spaced out to pay attention.

Most people think that when you get sick all it really affects is your health. Not Lyme disease. The spirochete Borrelia burgdorferi burrows its way into every crevice of your life, infecting not just your body but your entire being. After five years, there’s really not much left of who you were before you got sick: you’re a totally new person.

For me, it all started in sixth grade. The parasites attacked my brain making me moody and depressed and stealing my energy, leading to the loss of my human friends, but television galloped in like a white knight on a trusty steed to give me new ones: the characters in my favorite TV shows.

Sometimes when illness-induced processing problems made it impossible to indulge my passion for reading, I relied on the most accessible source of fiction I could absorb, television. Becoming a fervent fan of many well-crafted shows, I spent hours analyzing the actions of my new friends and the stories they brought to life, pondering why their creators chose to write them into certain situations. It became my new hobby.

Soon I began publishing stories on Fanfiction, a website devoted to publishing original chapters in the lives of fictional characters from the big and little screen. With adults and older teens complimenting my writing, I blossomed. Not only did writing gave me the confidence to become an active student and community member as my health improved, it showed me the truth and wisdom in Albus Dumbledore’s words, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light.”

Though I’ve recovered, whenever I feel melancholy, I still “apparate” outside the gates of Hogwarts castle. I study magic with Hermione and play pranks with Fred and George. After the Hogwarts Express, has whisked me back to London, I think a wonderful little thought, sprinkle myself with pixie dust, and fly away with Peter and Tink, off to Neverland, the second star to the right and straight on to morning.

Even when I’m back home, sitting alone in my bed, the adventure doesn’t end. It continues, coursing through my fingers and onto a Word document. And writing is the greatest adventure of all. Every word that I type on the page is part of a new story I can dive into, putting my whole heart and mind into it. The adventure of writing never stops, and I never want it to.

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