AN (12/12/18): Hey, wow. It's been a couple of years. I began writing fanfiction at the age of 10, and was about 11 years old when I wrote this. Over the years, I began to lose interest in writing, but I never strayed from Fanfiction. I continued reading, but that spark in me to write was lost. But, when I checked my email yesterday, I realized that people were still reading this. And that's probably my favorite element of fanfiction; it's timeless. So here I am. Thank you all for continuing to read, for writing reviews, for everything. I love you all so much.

I wasn't special.

It's strange, that is, to feel melancholy. Looking back on the past makes you question yourself, question your entire being and decisions.

Growing up, I had always been a happy, albeit spoiled, child. I was a member of a loving family of four, with me, my mother, and my father. Although we never had any pets, I never felt as if my family was insufficient. My mother and father were constantly working to keep our home afloat, but I never felt bothered by their absence. I was surrounded by my excessive pile of stuffed animals, blissfully occupying myself with their imaginary personalities. When they returned home from a tiring day of work, they never failed to greet me cheerfully. My mother would give me a kiss on the forehead and a warm hug, while my father would ruffle my short hair. I'd grumble, ostensibly irritated but inwardly delighted.

But, like all things in life, our sweet routine turned sour.

The first warning was when my mother and father would squabble over who cooked dinner. My beautiful mother, who never failed to smile, had an ugly look of disdain marring her face. "You're the one who gets paid more for less hours!"

My father, on the other hand, who coached an army of boys in basketball, angrily slammed his hands on the table. "You think I want to be surrounded by millions of rabid children? Why can't you be less conceited for one time in your life!"

These disputes had gradually become more and more intense, but I remained ignorant. My life was trapped in a small bubble, floating away from reality. I continued on with my stuffed animals, laughing at the jokes they made. We'd sit together for hours, exploring new realms and new worlds that were only a figment of my imagination. I never noticed that the warm hugs from my mother disappeared, or that my father never ruffled my hair, or that my parents no longer came home from work together.

One day, my father vanished. I initially hadn't noticed, but over the course of a few days, even I, the oblivious six-year-old, realized that my father was missing. A frown hung on my face. "Mommy where's Daddy?"

She grimaced, quickly masking it with a smile. "Oh honey, your father lives in California now."

I hummed, my childish mind satisfied with the answer. "Okay!"

It never occurred to me that they were divorced. At least, not until I was 8. In Japan, few parents ever divorced. Marriage was meant to be eternal, only ending in death. It didn't come to my attention until I was sitting in class alongside my classmates. My teacher had clapped her hands, beaming, "Okay class, today we're going to draw our families!"

Ecstatic to start drawing, I grabbed a stubby blue crayon. The drawing had to be perfect for my mother. After all, she deserved nothing but the best. I was lost in my drawing, determinedly drawing myself and my mother. Suddenly, I heard my teacher call my name. I looked up, chin sharply rising. Several classmates had already finished presenting, and everyone's eyes were focused on me. My cheeks were aflame, turning bright red.

"This is me and my Mommy!"

As my classmates peered at my drawing, I couldn't help but notice a couple of them whisper to each other. Nervous, I rapidly sunk back down into my chair.

At the end of the day, as my classmates and I waited to be picked up by our parents, my teacher pulled me aside. My eyes were glued to my shoes. Did I do something wrong? She knelt down onto my level, gazing directly at me. With a gentle voice, she asked about my family, and where my father was. Happy to answer such a simple question, I told her "California!"

When she replied, there was a sad tint in her tone. She explained to me what "divorce" was, and how my parents were divorced.

From that day on, I knew that I wasn't the hero that went on adventures with stuffed animals. If I was a hero, how could my father leave me? How could my mother not tell me?

As I aged, I became increasingly reclusive. If I wasn't good enough for my family, how could I be good enough for others?

I withdrew into the world of stories, games, and anime. If I couldn't be a hero, I could at least pretend to be one. When I read novels and played games, the real world didn't matter. There, I could be someone else. An anime in particular that I fell in love with, was Fairy Tail. I laughed as Natsu bantered with Lucy, and as she gently scolded him. In Fairy Tail, friends became family. It gave me hope that someday, I'd be able to make bonds with people that loved me.

In high school, I tried to make friends. I attempted to emulate Natsu, my poorly chosen role model. Everyone adored Natsu, even the brusque ones like Gajeel. But, I didn't have the friendships that Natsu had. I wore a smile on my face as I told corny jokes to my classmates, or committed random acts of idiocy. I became friends with nearly everyone, but I wasn't truly close with any of them. Even though I was surrounded by people, I was still lonely.

One day, as I turned around to face one of my friends, mouth open, I saw that he was talking to an acquaintance of mine. "Hey-"

He was cheerfully talking with the girl until he began speeding down the hall with her racing down after him.

"Oh."

Over time, I noticed this event taking many forms, with different friends, different acquaintances. My thoughts kept spiraling down and down into an endless hole. My identity was shaped around Natsu's, but I wasn't actually him. I didn't know who I even was.

As I boarded the bus to go home, I was lost in a daze. I had spent so long crafting my character, that I didn't know how I originally started out as. I robotically exited the bus, immediately following the path home. I didn't notice the car heading in my direction, nor did I hear the panicked screams of others. It was only when the car barrelled into my side that I realized what had happened. Pain erupted throughout my body, blood filling my lungs. I felt my body collapse with a thud, with darkness rapidly creeping in.

Regret flooded me. I'd never be able to finish Fairy Tail, never be able to see how my beloved anime would play out.

The darkness enveloped my sight, and then, there was silence. I floated, drifting away into the abyss. It wasn't cold nor awkward, but rather warm and comforting. There were times when I nearly regained consciousness, whereas during others it felt as if I was in an eternal sleep.

Suddenly, a strange feeling enveloped me. It continued on for a grueling amount of time, as if the darkness was squishing me. The darkness began to fade, with light slowly peeking in. Then, a bright light abruptly hit me. My eyes stung, unable to handle the drastic change, and I began crying.

"Congratulations Mrs. Fuji! It's a girl!" My ears rang, and I flinched.

I missed the peace from my old home.