Lucky Shoes

Indroduction

My window is open; a light breeze of fresh air blows in through the pale spruce curtains. I feel the need to curl up my toes under myself or stand up and get a duvet out of the closet, but I like it cold. The past few days I've been down with something, some may call it feeling under the weather. I am aware of the fact that the window won't make it any better as my mother tells me, but cool air is like standing in a mid-summer rainstorm, free, brave.

I always ponder over the fact that I never really experience real courage. Never felt like I was invincible, that nothing could ever stop my drive for something.

I should be doing homework, even if it is a Friday night, I'd like to get it over with but everything is too calm, I don't want to move. Outside my window I see my neighbour's cat perched on their windowsill. The animal is new to them, but I think it feels quite comfortable already. Its piercing neon eyes are staring right at me, as if I were going to attack it. That would be quite improbable, since I have no interest in hurting it and there is at least twenty feet between our two windows.

I contemplate about what I am going to do, its late evening, already dark on the mid-April night. I could watch the somber black cat, see how long it would take for it to get bored of staring at me or maybe sleep.

After gazing at the confused cat for a few minutes, I head to bed. After taking a quick hot shower and brushing my teeth I get under my extremely thick covers. Being toasty yet having a small wind in your room is one of the best feelings to have in the morning. I make sure the window is open a quarter, my door is closed and light off.

It usually takes me awhile to fall into sleep, so I think of random thoughts. Lucid dreaming has always interested me. I think I'm getting close to controlling my dreaming, in early morning I can wake up half way and influence my current dream.

Dreams. Aren't they wonderful? Dreams are always so much more interesting. In dreams I can be brave, I can imagine a world in which everything is different. In which there is no routine.

When people dream they are so much more creative, inventive. In the fourth grade Mme Quinn would make all the kids write stories every day. In the morning, it would be fifteen sentences in French, in fifteen minutes. Then, after lunch break, we would write in English.

I always hated those stories. I would never be able to think of something. Eventually it came to be that I started writing about talking tomatoes. In dreams, people never seem to ever run out of ideas. I guess that's because we aren't scared of what others would think in our dreams.

I despised elementary school, everything seemed to fall apart. Friends would constantly change, teachers never trusted you and the work, that at the time, was like climbing a rope to the moon.

High School is no better. Maybe for some it's where they strive, where they are at their highest, best, but not me. Sure, I get good grades and have a group of friends, but I have never belonged.

I'm not the exact definition of a nerd. I do get straight A's and I' m not social but I don't look like a nerd. I usually wear jeans or leggings with a cute top or sweater that accent my pale skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes. I guess my shyness, anxiety and self-consciousness overrides that.