I've always loved reading. Like, always always. When my mom starts telling stories about me as a baby, she'll always start with how she told me, when I was about three, that when I finished a book, we'd go back to the bookstore and get me another-- and she had to stop that after the third book I'd read in one day. So I've quite literally always been a bookworm.

I've always been a bit of an outcast, too. Picture, if you will, an awkward, scrawny little girl with John Lennon transition lens glasses and books from the "big kid" section in the library, and make her just a little bit weirder than you first imagined. Add more empathy than necessary for anyone and no idea when to shut up (or speak up), and that's me in third grade.

I'm not that awkward anymore, thankfully. At some point, I learned how to speak up-- to stand up for what I think is right. I learned that I may not make friends easily, but the friends that I have will be here for the long haul. I kind of grew into myself, I suppose, and I owe that entirely to books and the magical, wondrous characters in them.

Recently, I had an argument with my dad about whether or not fiction actually has an impact on society. He argued that because the stories aren't real, they have no reason to impact him or his worldview. He's an adult, he said, and he has no reason to be affected by stories. I had to disagree because I'm only the person that I am today because of fiction.

The first series of books I remember being truly, deeply invested in was The Sisters Grimm by Michael Buckley. Think Once Upon A Time for young teenagers. They spoke to my dreamy, starry-eyed nature with the fairy-tale aspect, but Sabrina and Daphne were written in a way that seemed less childish and more realistic, in spite of everything about their world.

Sabrina was fiery and sarcastic, and she had put up a wall to avoid getting hurt. I wanted to be her, but in reality, I was more like Daphne - wide-eyed, idealistic, and a prime candidate to be taken advantage of by the world. I devoured the first five of the nine books and patiently awaited the next two, but I never got around to reading the rest of the series.

Much like almost every other millennial/gen X'er, Harry Potter consumed much of my life. I read the books at the ripe old age of eight-or-so, and I have vivid memories of running into my parents' room and crying when Dumbledore died. He was the wise old grandfatherly type that I wanted in my life, that everyone wanted in their life. He was there for Harry, and he was gone. (In recent years, I've figured out that he isn't such a blatantly good character, but that's neither here nor there.) I still hadn't experienced real loss in a way that I could recall, and this hit me so hard.

Harry inspired me, though. I wouldn't realize it for quite some time, but the boy who lived gave me hope and determination in a way I never knew I needed.

I think The Hunger Games affected me the most, honestly. There was nothing quite like reading about a teenage girl sending herself to a death match for her baby sister, who was older than I was first time I read the books. On top of that, Katniss had experienced loss on a level that I couldn't comprehend, and she was still that selfless for the people she loved.

I admired that deeply. I also admired how whole-heartedly she believed in her cause and how willing she was to sacrifice herself for it. If I'm being realistic, Katniss Everdeen is single-handedly responsible for anything radical or rebellious in me, and I'm so grateful for that.

Listing every book and every character that's impacted me would take pages upon pages, and frankly, I don't have that kind of time - but I can't fully explain how thankful I am for all those stories, anyway. I can only hope that those stories continue to affect others the way they affected me.