She narrarates her life from the outside, as if her life was not hers. She doesn't cry, laugh, or show any emotional, her character do. Her heart doesn't work because it belongs to her characters. Different aspects of her life live through them. The only thing that works in "reality" is her brain as it writes words that just spew forth. Nothing happens to her but it all happens to her characters. She knows she couldn't last if she lived in "reality" because it hurts to even comprehend the things she writes but somehow it comes out as deep and as passionate as when she threw the letters onto the page. Her dreams of becoming a teen author will soon become another life in her notebooks and she's ok with that. Twenty One Pilots, Panic! At the Disco, and 5 Seconds of Summer lyrics bounce around her brain and occupy her heart. The earbuds keep out the idiotic thing people call "reality". She would have no part of it, now or ever. She will just protect her characters. The characters that hold her hopes, dreams, goals, past, present, and most of all, her heart. They are her heart; she cannot live without them.