Know why people cry? Supposedly to rid the eyes of salt and other contaminates. But crying is more than this... more than even relieving pain.

I always wanted to be the heroine of a story: dream a magnificent script or conjure up a place where my curiosity and creativity could reign. I could show them my world, created all by myself: my dream. Swords, magic and clever knights... everything a girl could ever want or wish for; a world that I could live in, not this faded one with black and white lines hazily drawn. They all fade into one, these lines. Where do they begin? Where do they end?

I have somehow turned into the people's heroine: forever present, never looked upon. Snickering comments, glances of disgust. I give everything to my cause; I am only a child who prefers dreams over reality! My intoxicating lure draws them on. I am a substance of their desire, their secret longing. They crave me. They want to use me. I let them. I show them my different worlds. They take me into them and see my vision. I make them cry.

Know why people cry? Not to alleviate pain. Never believe that lie. People cry because their heroine is used up.