It was only when I became interested in writing that I developed a desire to change the way that people viewed me. In the YA sci-fi novel I wrote, which I am currently trying to get published, the two male protagonists are portrayed as strong and brave, risking their lives on a regular basis to try and protect others. These two characters, Cole and Alistair, started out as what I hoped to find in a significant other: someone who clearly cared for me and who I knew would protect me at all costs, both physically and emotionally. My novel, entitled Interdimensional, features a self-insert character named Stella, who is blonde-haired, blue-eyed and scrawny like me. By living vicariously through Stella, my writing, and my overactive imagination, I was able to create the exact social supports that I needed at the time but had been unable to find in real life. I took to “channeling” Cole and Alistair when times got tough, asking myself how they would likely handle the difficult situation I was currently facing. When channeling Cole and the unconditional love he felt for me, I would speak to myself in a manner much more kind and encouraging than I normally did. When channeling Alistair, which I tend to only do as a last resort, I feel empowered and confident, ready to do whatever it takes to get the job done. After realizing that I liked this version of myself much better than I did the “Stella” version of me, I set out to finally take control of my eating disorder and change the way that others viewed me. I no longer wanted to be seen as the one who needed to be protected. Instead, I was ready to leave that all behind and step into the role of protector. ***** Thump! Although I had tried to follow Master Hart's sage advice and extend my leg fully on the kick, my second attempt to break the board proved just as ineffective as the first. I let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh, resisting the urge to swear under my breath. I try not to let my frustrations show, but I know that the judges at the head table and all the hundred or so students who were watching knew exactly what I was thinking. My confidence shaken, the intrusive thoughts begin to creep in again. Who are you kidding? You're never gonna get your black belt. Everyone here knows you're just a fake. You're the same scrawny girl who first stumbled into the dojang those five long years ago. What have you got to show for all your hard work? A couple belts that they gave you just because they felt sorry for you. That's it. Nothing more. You- “You've got this,” Master Hart whispers to me. I meet his piercing gaze and give a small nod, knowing that he truly believes what he is saying to me. In that moment, I'm able to push all doubts aside and convince myself of the verity of the statement. He's right. I've got this.