After graduating high school, I took general classes at the local community college and worked at a grocery store to save up money so I could move out. some girls smacked their gum and lost brain cells I passed the boring time with my head in a good book.

I wasn't dealt the best hand in life. My mom was a junkie and my dad bailed when he found out she was pregnant with me. I liked to refer to him as "the sperm donor," and ever since then Cynthia has loathed me. Children’s Services stepped in a couple of times and every time I was placed back into the "stable environment" of a crackhead alcoholic.

Huh, some legal system we have?

There were days and sometimes weeks when we didn't have electricity or sewage and I have been on food stamps for as long as I can remember. Let me just say that whoever invented powdered milk is a complete and total basket-case!

Anyway, Cynthia decided I was going to be her only mistake. So while there are families out there with numerous kids, I was all by myself. We were dirt poor so I couldn’t really do much and in high school I kind of kept to myself. Sure, I had a few friends here or there, but nothing lasted. They were never interested in sticking around. Plus, while kids were ditching class and getting drunk on the weekends, I was more interested in my books and steering clear of Cynthia’s wrath.

So while most teenagers were sucking face I had my head in the clouds or in a book. I'm an avid reader and when I read I escape. The point to reading and watching movies are to escape your shitty, fucked up life for just a few hours. That was why, on the rare occasions when I did get to see a movie and it sucked big time, I made a point to complain until I got a refund. I didn’t care that the girls were from my school and would make fun of me the following Monday morning. But anyway, back to why I read. I liked to think I was the leading lady getting the Happily Ever After.

My head was always filled with ideas and possibilities, but that's all they ever were. I decided a change was in order and I was going to make my dreams a reality. If you haven’t figured it out yet then you are a complete bonehead. I, Isabelle Katherine Clark, Iz for short, want to be an author.

I wanted to write about everyday people who live extraordinary lives. No, not like meeting a billionaire, but meeting a regular guy and falling in love, having the white picket fence, and 2.5 kids. I might throw in a serial killer to spice it up a bit, but you catch my drift.

We needed to get back to the times of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy or Tristan and Isolde. Where you felt that life altering, ground breaking, universe shifting true love. The simplicity of it that made me wonder if that could happen in real life. The events of my life up to that point had given me the answer. That no, it couldn’t.

Unfortunately, our stories and the paths we choose aren’t written by authors who sit behind a computer desk and have all the time in the world to calculate the perfect words for answering a question or how we’re going to throw ourselves at who we think is the love of our life. Nope.

We get one chance and that one chance can make or break us. Turn our event into enchantment or one of tragedy. Either tears are shed or the sounds of laughter fill a room.

We aren’t able to click backspace or delete. That’s the beauty of real life; good or bad we live in the moment. A Beautiful Idea