My problem isn’t that my favorite characters aren’t real; it’s that I’m not fictional. I don’t want them to be real. What I desperately wish is that I could be fictional with them. It’s not that I want them here with me in this mundane and ordinary world; it’s that I want to join them in their extraordinary one.
When I was 5, my mom lost me in a park. I don’t remember much, except that one minute, I was riding the carousel and the next… she was gone. I don’t remember how I found her. I don’t remember how I got home. All I remember is what happened next. She told me not to worry. She told me everything would be fine. She told me it was time to play the quiet game, so I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask any questions… or else, I might have told her… I forgot my doll. I loved that doll so much. It killed me to leave it behind. Funny, isn’t it, the way memory works… the things you can’t quite remember and the things you can never forget?
“And it came to pass… that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul… Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul.” –1 Samuel 18:1–3, The Shadowhunter’s Codex