Dream Yourself Reality.

Look at you, pen in hand, sitting pleasantly in that glossy leather chair. You think you know everything about me don't you? When everything you know about me is in a file on top of your desk. Let's be honest here. That file has been passed from person to person, except it's about as blank as the expression on a blonde's face. I bet you're not here to get to know me. I bet you don't even know anything at all. If I asked you what cereal I eat, you'd be clueless. If I asked you what bra size I wore, you'd be mentally incompetent.

"How's your day?" you say, as if you actually cared.

"Terrible", I want to say, trying to remember your name. I'll bet it was something professional like Priscilla or Cecelia, or extremely plain as Claire or Brooke.

"Elizabeth?" you say, as if I didn't hear you the first time. What's not to hear in a room as congested as this? If you listen closely, I bet you could hear me exhale.

"I'm fine", I say, remembering my name. Elizabeth. My mother had prayed for a baby girl to dress up in bows and frilly dresses. She would have never expected the screaming mess she'd get instead, whenever I was in anything other than a onesie. My dad had attached me to the name Libby, when I was an infant. He was the only person who ever understood me. Most would think of it as a childish nickname or a heavy burden, but I think of it as my identity and my memory. I guess that's why I'm here; the fact that I never meet anyone's expectations, let alone listen to anyone other than myself.

You jot something down as I look around the room. I notice that you happen to be looking at me. We share a stare and then you look away and glance at the clock. I see many plaques on the wall stating that your name's Linda. I personally preferred Priscilla. Your mouth starts to open and I see you're just like the others, quitting on the first day. You start to stand up and smile. I try and contain my glorious victory. You look at me once more, and put your hand out. I start to worry.

"Time up." you say, leading me to the door.

I smile on accident as you let me outside.

I sit on a bench and the world seems to spin as I feel hot tears slowly run down my cheecks.

It wasn't always like this. We used to be that family with the two kids at a restaurant that you could be able to look at and say, "Wow! They look so happy!" Life used to be a bowl of laughter and fun. It's amazing how something could change people's lives in the blink of an eye, how a perfect family could become part of a tragic horror story.

Sometimes I wish my life was all a dream. That I could wake up one day as a toddler and say, "Hey Dad! I had the most amazing dream!"

Sometimes I wish that night was a whole dream. That you could wake me up and say, "Libby! You overslept and you're late for school!"

That you could be mad for an instant, but I could hug you as tight as ever and tell you about my horrible dream over a late breakfast. You would kiss my forehead and tell me everything was alright. Mom would wake up confused, but then smile at the sight of us. Jason would come home from school and laugh at the fact that we were smiling and hugging. Then he would grin and tell me I was lucky for missing that day because Mr. Cooke assigned extra Math homework.

If only life worked that way.