The low hum of the washing machine

assaults my ears as I try to sleep.

The rustles and light snores coming from my sister 

makes it even harder. 

I have difficulty trying to sleep, 

but now more than ever. 

Too many demons to run from.

Too much darkness.

Too many imaginary ax murderers that could

jump through my window and kill me. 

So I disappear for a while.

Into a world that I create. 

A world where I am a warrior, 

unafraid of the monsters that taunt me 

in the real world. 

I face them head on, 

sometimes with a lightsaber and wand,

sometimes with my words. 

I smile at the things my characters and I do

while I seemingly stare out the window of the car. 

Taking out my anger on being helpless

on the foes that challenge me in my world.

Taking everything one step at a time,

but sometimes having to rewrite the script a bit. 

Backtrack and cross out some scenes. 

But that’s alright, 

since this is my world.

The universe I created and get to live in

until the real world barges in and yanks me back

to the life I’m supposed to have. 

I always end up back in my imagination, 

fighting bad guys alongside 

my favorite fictional characters.

There’s nothing anyone could do that 

would make me leave them behind. 

Imagination is a wonderful thing. 

Where I could be 

a Jedi, 

a wizard, 

a demigod, 

a dragon, 

a mermaid,

a duchess,

a rogue,

an elf,

or just me. 

Just Elle, but also not just Elle

because in this world, 

I’m more than I know. 

I’m an imaginary character too, 

just like the rest of them.

And that’s fine with me.

The real world can keep my body.