Lemons of Fate
“IF life gives you lemons, well then, you’re god.” At least that’s what I wrote in my middle school diary, hoping it would be some kind of life mantra.
Fast forward 15 years, and apparently, my childish optimism is the least of my worries. I’m now trapped in the novel I wrote as a kid. And no, I didn’t dream this up. There’s no way I imagined the high school drama, the ridiculous fantasy world, and—most importantly—the absurdly cliché plotline of some random teenager becoming a hero by… well, not being an idiot.
But here I am. Caught between pages, awkwardly stuck in the world of my imagination where I’m supposed to be a minor character who dies in chapter three.
Yeah. Real great, right?
And here’s the kicker: It’s not like life (or the "god" of this world, which, let’s be honest, feels a lot like life at this point) is giving me some great power or destiny. No, no, no. Life’s throwing the equivalent of lemons at me, and I have no idea how to make lemonade.
I mean, seriously? This world was supposed to be an adventure, full of magic, mythical creatures, and an epic storyline. But instead, I'm stuck here watching the “real” protagonist—who’s probably off saving the world—while I try to figure out how to not get killed by a random monster in the middle of a forest.
Is this my punishment for writing a half-baked novel as a kid? Probably. But whatever it is, I’m going to have to deal with it. There’s just one problem—if I want to survive this insane mess, I need to rewrite my own fate. And rewriting this world is a hell of a lot harder than I thought.
Can I survive in a story where I’m not supposed to exist? And more importantly—what if I can change the plot entirely?
