The way I got through high school is different than the way other people 
did.  But I guess that's typical of everyone.  I mean, even druggies and future 
alcoholics have their own unique ways of breaking down; their own individual 
reasons for the way they act.  In that sense, every drug addict is a unique and 
beautiful snowflake...

	But that counts for bullshit when you get right down to it. and that's not 
even what I wanted to talk about.  So, here it is, my personal answer to the 
enduring trauma we in the industry call, HIGH SCHOOL.

	I used my imagination.

	Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?  I used my imagination 
to pay back all the people that did me wrong.  For example: when someone tripped 
me up the stairs on the way to class, once I'd recovered my bearings and gotten 
to class right on time, I 'redid' the scene in me own head.  Instead of falling 
like an idiot and being jostled around a bit as I struggled not to hit anyone 
and still manage to keep my books at the same time, I caught myself almost 
instantly (having seen the hit coming, of course) and 'accidentally' smashed 
into the perpetrator in the process.  It started out EXACTLY like that, honest 
to God.  Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately as the case may be, I was not 
gifted with the physical prowess or the mental capacity that saves so many 
students.  Nope, I was an average, hard-working nerd.  I have to actually study 
to pass tests and I paid attention in class and even *gulp* took notes.  
Whatever.  The point is, this was how I 'evened the score' in my mind.  But then 
something happened.

	So, right in the middle of one of one of my 'justice sessions' as I came 
to call them (shut up.  When you start using your mind the way I did, then you 
can call what you do whatever the hell you want.  This is what *I* called them, 
and since this is *MY* story, you can fuck off if you don't like it).  ANYway...  
While I was imagining up some good old fashioned vengeance, I discovered that I 
could change one or two factors around and create a slightly diffrent school.  
One where I didn't get picked on all the time or where I defended other people I 
saw getting picked on the way I did. What a rush!  I found myself liking the 
idea of being the laugher instead of the one constantly being laughed at.  
Needless to say, I spent days working on this world I'd created in my mind.  The 
things, simple things I imagined seemed too unimportant to write down, and a LOT 
of it was based on books I'd just read or movies I'd just seen. Still, it was 
fun and a heck of a lot better than the world I lived in from day to day.

	It got even better after a while though.  The 'avenger' idea, while 
fascinating, didn't hold my interest for more than a few months.  Suddenly, Star 
Trek and Stephen King took over my interest (along with a whole score of other 
people), creating new constructs and situations for me, the heroine of every 
tale of mine, to explore and endure.  It seemed that the more I deviated from my 
'reality', the more freedom I allowed myself.  And the more freedom, the more 
developed I became.  I was an orphan, left for dead as a child to brave the 
elements alone, until one day I discovered I was a princess.  Or just as easily, 
I was the daughter of an abusive couple, struggling to defend my honor and 
maintain my edge until I was strong enough or brave enough to leave home.  It 
was all in my head, these new worlds that I could carve and create at will, and 
you can't understand the...  power it gave to me.  I was a god of sorts, 
crafting my own lives and living out a hundred, thousand storylines at a time, 
all at my own whim.

	I miss those days from time to time.  Not so much for the torment and 
anguish they left me with, compliments of the Real World, as for the lessons I 
taught myself during those little vacations.  I learned more about myself: the 
kind of person I am, what drives me and gives me purpose, than anybody could 
have taught me during that difficult period in my life.  And yet, it wasn't 
until I started writing down, describing my internal universes, that I started 
remembering the things I once felt I had to give up in order to 'grow up'.  I 
thought that the only way to truly step into Earth at last was to leave my 
imagination behind.  I was convinced of the uselessness of my creative ability.

	But that was the biggest lie of all, even bigger than the one that high 
school would be the very best years of my life.



	I want to be me.  Most importantly, I'm tired of pretending to be 
something I'm not.  I'm a creator, and my mind is my own personal playground 
where I can shape and create the worlds I grew up with and nurtured for so long.  
I'm ready to create again.  For better or for worse.