Princess in a Tower

Noa hid away in the back of the classroom, pencil scratching furiously across her notebook as the words seemed to fall right out of her brain, through her hand, and onto the paper. Another plot, another script, another story. It was a cliché story, the story of a princess stuck in a tower, but it was a powerful and meaningful story all the same.

It's the story I need right now... Writing was a form of control for Noa, the closest thing she had to a key or a sword with which she could free herself from her dragon-guarded keep. The only difference: in most stories of a similar ilk, the entire kingdom knew of the lost princess. They knew she was imprisoned, and the king sent knight after knight trying to rescue her.

But real life, sadly, is nothing like the stories... That was why Noa needed to write so badly. Even worse than being trapped was being invisible. How could anyone set her free if they didn't even know she was imprisoned in the first place? And even though Noa could see the bars keeping her locked away, she could not see the exit, or even a lock. She was told time and time again by her grades and achievements and awards that she was smart, so why did she not know the solution this time?

It was perhaps the first major problem in her life that she could not solve on her own, but she had no idea how to ask for help. It was not something she never needed to do before. It was one of the few skills she never polished. But therein lay the issue. She needed help asking for help. But if she did not know how to ask for help, how could she ask for it in order to receive help for asking for help?

The class thinks I can do everything by myself. Even the teacher. Nobody helps me...

That was the difference between fiction and reality. In the story, the princess was helpless, and everyone knew she was in danger. In real life, the princess was anything but, and nobody knew a thing. In stories, every flaw was a cute quirk that could ultimately be overcome with hard work and a bright spirit. In reality, though...

Oh, the irony, perhaps the princess in real life was helpless, but in a way so paradoxical because the helplessness stemmed from the fact that, otherwise, she was incredibly competent. Too competent. Her own perfection made her imperfect. But the nature of perfection was to, well, be perfect! So, when it seemed that the key to freedom involved becoming imperfect... how exactly did one do that?

And just like a princess in a tower, Noa was high up in the air. It was a pedestal and a throne in some ways, an excellent view that placed her far above the rest, the "common masses". But in other ways, it was a lonely isolation. She couldn't reach anyone, and they couldn't reach her. She was too high up. The only way out was to fall, but how? That was... scary.

I need someone to destroy the tower, break me out of here! Send it all crashing down to the ground, shatter the walls! Who cares if I'm still inside? At least afterward, I'll finally be free... Maybe after the tower is gone, people will see that I don't have it together as well as they assume. Maybe that will be enough, and I will finally be free to ask for help, and know that I will receive it in return. I will finally be seen...

But again, how could a knight in shining armor come to save her from anything when nobody even knew she was trapped in the first place? Noa didn't have the solution, but she had a story. She could write a work of fiction wherein the princess in the tower was rescued.

They think I'm scary. Not like that other girl. Everybody wants to help her because she's cute. In Noa's story, the princess was beautiful and kind and helpless, the perfect sort of person to reach out to and help. She hit every trope in the book, designed to elicit intense sympathy from the audience, to make readers feel protective of her, compelled to care for her. In real life, they treated Noa like the dragon, not the princess.