Chapter 1: The Girl in Her Own Mind
My mother always said that life is journey with a single destination, but all people travel different paths.
I guess I chose my path at a young age.
In my youth, I had little acceptance for dolls and toys, both of which I looked down upon as mere playthings of children. I was not a child. I thought I was more- oh, so much more- and I never allowed others to see otherwise, pushing them away. For a while, I didn't mind; adults were ignorant; children were just that.
But slowly, as I aged, I had a newfound longing to be accepted. Some group, any group- it didn't matter. I didn't do it to learn about the people; I could understand others with an almost eerie ease. The prospect of being, essentially, nothing, was the slow and painful cause of my yearning. Through all those years of isolation, I had yet to comprehend myself. Surely a group would give me an identity.
Alas, I so felt the absolute need for control, order, and answers within my own life that I waged internal war when no one included me. You will be something, I'd tell myself, sounding not a bit unlike a zealous parent living through her offspring. You are something.
Miraculously or divinely (I have yet to determine which), the battle ceased. The yearning for friends and the need of personal identity dulled. The voice in my head that had forever plagued me had turned into nothing more than a whisper. My independence and self-loathing had taken their toll. I matured far too quickly into someone I was not meant to be. Someone rigid. Unbreakable. Untouchable.
No matter how many people surrounded me, I was alone. I lived in my own mind, rarely expressing my emotions outwardly or trusting others. I needed no one; my dreams would talk to me, and my imagination was my best friend. I thought I was content... until I met him. Until I met The Doctor.