Meet Seph White—
the heart and soul of this story.
Far too young to be so disillusioned by the cruelties of life, she’s trying to find her footing in a world with the odds stacked against her—all at the tender age of seventeen.
Well, that’s what everyone else says. According to her, even her age—like much of her life—is up for debate. Very much up for debate.
Her therapists call her delusional.
She calls herself experienced.
Seasoned, in the way only the ugliest nightmares can make you.
What happened to her wasn’t just a tragedy.
It was brutality—relentless and unbelievable.
The kind of ordeal no one thinks could actually be real.
Seph’s Truth—or the Unreliable Narrator
Writing Seph wasn’t always a joy.
She makes mistakes. Big ones. And more than once, she was utterly, bitterly, surprisingly wrong.
She’s headstrong. And she has her reasons for being narrow-minded at times, for throwing herself headfirst against the walls of reality. But is she delusional?
Is she right? Wrong? Or maybe—somehow—both?
Her flaws are what make her deeply endearing to me. She’s a struggling soul, clinging to a narrative she’s crafted—about her past, her present, and what the future might demand of her. She’s constantly forced to adapt to truths that twist her sense of self and stretch the boundaries of what she thought was real.
The Stories We Create is just as much about the stories the world created—the truths buried beneath layers of ignorance—as it is about the stories we tell ourselves. The ones we build in our own minds.
The stories that hold our inner world together, that keep everything from tilting into the obscure.
The stories that keep us sane. That arrange memory and belief into something we can live with.
And Seph? She’s being challenged on all sides—by people from her old life, new friends, and the healthcare professionals now swarming her world.
Challenged to rethink what she knows, who she trusts, and what she believes.
Her struggle is sometimes claustrophobic.
Not knowing who—or what—to believe. And worst of all, having that gnawing, quiet fear tucked away in the back of her mind:
What if the truth isn’t what I thought it was?
What if the people I pushed away were right? What if I was wrong?
That kind of realization is gutting.
Her journey is deeply human. And at the same time, not at all from this world.
We ride alongside her—always close, entwined in her thoughts, her beliefs, her humor, her stubborn resilience.
She’s a kind soul, made selfish and guarded by circumstance. Her story is about rediscovering the fragile, soft tendrils of care for others—letting them grow again, allowing connection. And ultimately, becoming a fierce guardian of the path to redemption—for herself and for others.
It’s a rough path—one I had to walk with her. Guiding, narrating, sometimes dragging her through heartbreak and hard truths until she could finally find her footing, reclaim her agency, and shape a life that felt like it was hers to live.