Forever Ain't Enough

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Johny

I spent the next couple of days glued to the phone. Sitting next to it. Waiting for her to call. Holding on to the hope that she was in fact, real. She had to be. I needed her to be. Her pretty face, and innocent smile were way too beautiful for me to be making up. The way I got chills all over my body whenever I thought of her touch had to come from something in the past, our past.

By not remember anything, I could make of my past anything I wanted. I could have been fantasizing about the perfect childhood. The amazing places I could have gone to while growing up. My first school dance, or how I could have been the most popular kid at my school. I could imagine the most perfect life, not even the luckiest people could say they had, but I did not want to. I did not want that.

I wanted the real-life I had gotten, even if it meant I was a nerd that probably never went to a school dance. Even if I had never traveled to another country, or had absolutely no amazing experiences to share about my childhood. I wanted to know if I cried on my first day of school, or what I threw tantrums about. I wanted to look at myself in the mirror and know who was standing in front of me. I wanted to know why I enjoyed reading so much, why I needed to write my thoughts down as verses, and why I hated the sandwiches my mom made. I wanted to know why my hands sweated so much when I had to order food on the phone, and why I would constantly choke on my words when talking to strangers.

I wanted to understand why I was still good at math, but could not remember my birthday. I wanted to know everything I knew was real, and not just a story someone told me.

I had too many questions, and falling asleep next to the phone, while dreaming with her was the closest thing I had to an answer. I managed to find a way to have lengthy conversations with her in my dreams. I managed to find a way to distort my reality even more, and make dreams feel tangible. I started learning about how cold she got during the nights, and how much she hated to sleep with makeup on. I got a couple of ice cream flavors I could bet were her favorites, and some book titles I ended up noting on my "to read" list.

The ice cream was real, and so were the books, why couldn't she be real too?