a life of its own.

I've been wanting to start creative writing again. It keeps me alive and helps me see the big picture of life. If I can see my life as a story; then things don't seem so scary, annoyances turn into things I can laugh about, disappointments aren't as devastating--because it's all just a small chapter in the book of my life.

So I saw this writing prompt on Pinterest and decided to take a whack.

As always when I'm writing, it turns into something completely different than what I thought it would at the beginning. This took on a life of its own and what I thought would be a story where the main character fell in love with who ever was reading, turned into the reader being a 3rd party looking into the life of a girl that fell in love with the main character in her book. . . .

Different, but still very interesting. 

I wasn't sure where to start, so I began with this other writing prompt. 

Three words turned into the beginning of a story that maybe we can all relate to.

enjoy.

"I trusted you. . ."

The salty tears from my eyes blur the letters on the page. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I read, eyes squinting to clear the watery words.
I think back to our first day. So young and naive I was. We both were. The warnings were clear, but the promise of love overpowered it all.

The first few chapters of our love began with Ty out with another. I can hardly remember her name anymore. Sandra or Susan or something. Now I wish I wouldn't have interfered. We'd all be better off if he'd stayed with her.

I turn back to the page I'm reading. My tears have dried up by now. I suspect there's not many left.

"Don't leave me. . ." His plea is so simple, so desperate, it rips my heart in two. I try to swallow, try to answer, but the lump in my throat is barbed wire. I don't know what to do.

He is silent now, but I know he is slumped on the ragged couch, a now-cold cup of tea in his limp hands. I know because we have done this before and every time I go back and find him there. Just sitting. Nearly dead.

He needs me. I need him. But I can't spend my life like this. I have already sacrificed so many months to him. I need to move on.

"I trusted you too, you know," the words slip out and I see them appear, slowly, on the page in front of me. I pick up the book again and wait for his reply.

How did I allow this to happen?

I was born a dreamer, my mom always said. Always in costume, dancing around the house, singing to my prince charming that I had just met in the storybook that lay on my floor.

And as I grew, so did my infatuation with books and fictional characters. Every book I would read would end up sprawled across my chest, forgotten with the close my eyes and the start of a dream. In my mind I was suddenly thrown into the book, much like Mary Poppins is sucked into chalk pictures. I was the damsel in distress, the captain of the ship, the struggling heroin trying saving her family. But always, always, there was a prince. My prince. He was there to save me, support me, love me.

But sooner or later, my eyes would open and I would return to my world and get on with life. But each time it was harder to pull away. Fiction became better than reality and I spent every possible hour reading, dreaming, thinking about my fictional life.

Then one day, I found Ty. A book abandoned on a park bench and a family reunion to escape from has left me--now almost a year later--heart broken and desperate.

"Come here," the words materializing on the page in front of me snap me out of my stupor.

"I. . .can't," I stammer, but know it is hopeless. I've never been able to escape his plea's. I see his face in a ghostly daydream in front of me and sigh. One more, just one more time. I close my eyes and feel myself sucked into the worn book.

He is there. Cold tea, ragged couch, just as I imagined. He stands and is by my side in two long strides. His hand traces my chin and before I have a chance to even think about protesting--his lips have found mine and it feels so real that I find myself slipping again. Into this fantasy world. I breakaway and feel tears pulling at my eyes again.

"I have to let you go," I whisper, and it feels as if I've opened a trap door under my feet. I'm falling and screaming for Ty to help me, but all I see is white. No words, no floor, no Ty. I am completely alone.