BPOV
An outcast.
That's what I was. No one in this city understood me, or even made an attempt to. I was considered to have "no fashion sense" or "no personality" by the females and "uninteresting" by the males. I never fit into anyone's clique or circle. Not that I wanted to.
My life was a constant routine, and a boring one at that. I woke up, got dressed, drove to school in my monster of a truck – which I loved dearly. I went to class, ate lunched, was ridiculed and judged by the 'popular' crowd and went home. I made dinner for Renee and Phil, answered questions at futile attempt at a conversation, did homework and went to bed. That was my schedule, my life.
On my 16th birthday when I received a journal from my my mother I started to write. At first it was my thoughts and how my day went. Then I realized how repetitive that was and stared to writes stories.
It became my new hobby, and then overtime a craving, an obsession, a need. Writing stories gave me the opportunity to control something for once. I wrote of things that I would never have the confidence to do. Things of fantasy or reality. Sometimes I would write poems or drabbles. Write from one of my character's perspectives or just from a third person point of view. I had to write at least once a day, even if it was brief
I soon grew tired of my daily routine. I wanted adventure. I wanted things to happen, that would only happen in my stories. I wanted change.
And soon my wish was granted.
The problem is I never realized how difficult it was to step out of one's comfort zone. I often wondered why characters were so afraid to do what they had to do. Then when everything changed I realized why I so desperately clung to my routine. Why I always stuck to the same things. Why I only dreamed and never did what I wanted to do.
For it is terrifying to face the unknown alone, with no idea what to expect. I suddenly realized that I did not need confidence but courage and inner strength. I had to be brave, not sure of myself.
The thing about brave people is that they are not fearless. They are probably more afraid than one could ever imagine. But despite the fact that they are afraid, they don't let that fear stop them.
For everyone has fears.