STRAIGHT TO CANADA {JELENA AU}

CHAPTER ONE

Selena’s pov:

Virgil Thomson, a man I’m totally in love with, once said: “ Try a thing you haven’t tried before three times – once to get over the fear, once to find out how to do it, and a third time to find out whether you like it or not ”. I think about this quote every single day, the only difference between it and my life is that life is real and it’s dramatically complicated. In life you don’t have the chance to try something you haven’t tried before, three times – you could only if this ‘something’ you haven’t already tried is like eating a soup or being vegetarian – but when it’s about something serious and drastic you don’t really have the chance to try it plenty times. I mean, could I live there three times? And for how long each time? Everything is so complicated, that’s why I would like to live in a book being the main character, the lady of 1800 with an important family and a Fate perfectly defined by a writer. I would probably be named Mary or Jane, or even both, or Virginia and I would live something exciting and unique and my story would be known by every single person. But life is different, isn’t it? Let me tell you, it is. 

And after living there I will probably move to New York City and attend the Columbia University, the school my dad and I have always dreamed of for me. Before dying, a morning in cold winter, I was only eight, and he told me « Selena, my daughter, you have an incredible future coming your way. Just crash with it, fall with it, breath with it, and life will smile to you. I know exactly what your capable of, and I’m so proud of you ». 

College is something he wanted so bad to attend when he was younger but because of money he couldn’t – he had to work to help his parents’ economy – and the Ivy League is something he always wanted me to attend. But I don’t think I’m intelligent enough to go to Harvard, and neither to Yale, so Columbia is something I feel closer to me. But moving, forever, is so drastic and I fear I could regret leaving my Texas, the country I’ve always wanted to run away from. It’s funny how a girl can change her mind so quickly… well, I’m moody so it’s not a surprise I keep changing my mind. 

I’m doing the check-in and I’m on line; when my mum hugged me she let a tear run down her face, so did I. People starred as we were strange, maybe we were pathetic but, hey, I won’t see her probably until Christmas or, worse, until Easter, so let me hug my mum! Brian was so lovely, as always, he had brought my super heavy luggage until I had to move on my way. Because this is all about moving my way, alone, growing up. When I turned around and walked off she kept waving her hand, crying a bit against Brian. It made my heart get littler and cry too. Wait, can an heart cry? Or am I too poetic? Hey, I think I wouldn’t be a bad writer if I keep saying poetic nonsenses as this one… Would you ever buy my books? Ok, don’t worry, for humanity’s benefit I won’t write any book. I think I’m getting crazier every day a little bit more, like I’m having a conversation in my head with myself and I’m afraid I will soon make questions and reply to myself. This would be so weird. 

The check-in is done, now I’m walking in the airport. Look, over there, there are four guys outside a café waiting for someone, I suppose. One of them looks stunning, he must be asiatic...but I really don’t think they could notice me so it’s okay if I walk on my way pretending to do-not exist. I don’t think I look so ugly, I saw uglier people being happy and popular, but I think I’m the one who is always invisible, maybe because I’m not pretty enough or because my body isn’t as thin as it should or maybe only because my outfit isn’t attractive, but anyway I am the girl nobody sees. And I consider myself fat, ugly and insignificant and being insignificant is what hurts me because I’m aware of it. 

I keep telling myself that in life there are always better people and worse than us. We’re always in a big middle ( actually of nowhere ), and what makes us get out of the box and be noticed is being different. But being different without being lucky is not enough, so lets add luckiness too. But being different means making something cool and I don’t think I would be brave enough to risk and put myself under a spotlight. I fear being in the darkness, as I do, but how would it be living under the spotlights? Would I be as good as I should? Sometimes it’s easier to be invisible than be known.