My, How I Wish It Would Be So

 Everyone dreams of what they want their life to turn out like, right? It couldn't possibly be just me. Think of people other than yourself, I was always taught, I suppose it would come into play here. To add to that, however, most people probably simply wish their life to be the way they think of it in their heads. I'm not certain how many believe that that will never, ever happen, as I do, and I hope many are on the same page as I so I do not feel so alone in my own head.

This is what I like to imagine my life would be like, all full of fun and no more depression and angst, no more sorrowful bites bitten in bars of dark chocolate (though I would not mind happy bites bitten into dark chocolate) and no more tears because I feel that my life is none to spare.

At the turn of my coming of age, I will be off on my merry way, no harm done, wherever my life will take me, I shall go. I will have made many friends by then and I will spend more time with them and cherish them more than I do now. Of course, I would be living with my father for a short time, work at the ranch, or the other stables, and in the winter I would work up at the mountain, renting out skis and such to all the people who wish to have a fun day, sliding down a mountain slope on pieces of wood covered in plastic.

 I would have my G.E.D. and somehow get into some college or some sort out of my hometown, and move to that city. I finish with whatever I may have been doing in those terms, and move out of the state. Where? I like to think I'd move to North Carolina or some place over there, where it's nice and green, full of wilderness and creatures of the night to come and stalk me in the middle of the woods. I would, in fact, live in the middle of the woods, away from the judging eyes of judging people because I am oh so scared of judgment, even though it's just a human thing. People will always talk, and I can do nothing about it, and I shouldn't care, but I do, because I care about things that shouldn't be cared about.

One day, my friends from good ole California would invite me to come stay with them for a while. I would agree and would stay with them. There I would meet a man, who was my friend, and I would care about him in the most caring way a person could care for someone, again with the caring. You could say I am a careful person. Yes.

We would go to the beach at night, around 6 or 7 of us, and we would laugh, reminiscing about that time when Dorothy's mother had gotten into the wrong car and scaring the other person in the other car half to death. We would smile. We would be happy, something I could almost never see myself doing. We would have a campfire going, and we'd be setting off fireworks and have glowsticks around our bodies, upbeat music blaring. The beach would be void of all people save for us, and maybe a lonely man watching us from the boardwalk, the real me.

The man and I would share glances at each other, loving glances. Everyone but us would know we had a thing going. We both would think the other liked someone else, or just didn't like them at all. But deep down, we knew the truth, and not so deep down, everybody else did too.

At the end of the night, around midnight, we would all sit down, the noise gone, and only the sound of the crackling fire. I would sit close to the man I found a secret love for, and he would inch closer to me.

The rest of them would tell stories and we'd all sing slow songs of happiness, and of course, sing a few Twenty One Pilots songs, I would still like them, I'm sure of it. We'd roast marshmallows and s'mores, and we would be content.

The man and I end up huddled together because I was cold, and we knew then, we knew that that was the moment our life together began.

Eventually, everybody would come back to the one friend's house and crash there, and I would share a bed with the man, and for once in my life, I'd enjoy being close to another person.

Years go by and the man and I are still together. We have two cats, named Percy and Zanzibar. Zanzibar was mine, and he was a jerk to everyone else, except me. And I would laugh when the man would try to pet him and he would hiss, because I am evil. Percy was his, and she was a sweetheart, she loved everyone and anyone.

One Halloween, our friends invite us to party, and we go, dressed in Harry Potter costumes, I was Ginny Weasly, and he would be Harry Potter. Loud music, beer, drugs. I would not be a part of that and instead go to the back yard where the sounds of the music and chattering people were muffled by the thick walls. I would be alone, because that's what I like best. The man comes out with me and hugs me and we spend the rest of the night together.

But who am I kidding? None of my friends would do that party crap. We'd be using a Ouija board and speaking to dead people, and going to graveyards, trying to get the living scared out of us. We would have a crazy encounter with a crazy man who had an axe who we were certain wasn't just out for Halloween.

The next day we would be scarred for life.

Thanksgiving rolls around and my father and I go to the man's parents house, and his little siblings might love me, and his strange cousin might be exactly like me as I am writing this, awkward and in a corner, scared for their life, not wanting to be there.

By the end of the night, all parents and family members are asking when the wedding day is.

Christmas comes running around the corner like it was racing Usain Bolt, but we spend it alone. Alone together, great song, that is. We have a few gifts for each  other and we just bask in the quietness of the evening. Then I start to remember things. Good things. The giant Nerf war almost my entire family had the Christmas of 2014. The quiet Christmas my dad and I had with my sister and stepmother where my dad tried to trick her into thinking he got me an iPod but it was really just gloss in that little thing that actually did look like a phone, and my sister ended up do the same thing with eyeshadow.

But with remembering that, I start to go deeper, I try to stop my mind, don't let it go back, but my mind is stronger than I thought. I delve into what happened when I was a teen, what hell I had to go through, how I hated my mother, because she tried to ruin my life, how she tried to ruin everybody's life, how she lied her god awful lies to get her own way. I feel a tear slip down my cheek as the man still holds me in his arms. I attempt to hold back a choking sob, but it slips past my lips anyway. He wakes and asks if I'm okay, to which I-

And I'm back. I wake in my bed at my mother's house. Still 15 years old. Still sad and alone. My fantasy life no longer a reality, but only in my head, and only in writing. I grab my phone to check Instagram, and I see a text from my father:

Good morning my baby have a good day

I send him one back, even though he won't get it until after work.:

I'll try. I might not succeed.

And then I get a skype message, from my only friend my age:

Are you awake? I need to talk to you it's really important

I race to the app in which this message came from and I call her immediately. The tone rings a few times and she answers, and I see the sorrow upon her grief stricken face. Eyes red a puffy from tears as they still stream down her face like it was a flash flood.

"What's wrong?" I ask, saddened further by her state.

She takes a deep but shaky breath as she answers. "We had to sell the horses. Dad lost his job, and we have to move... again..." At that she chokes out a sob.

I don't know what to say. I never know what to say in these situations. I sit quietly with my head tilted downwards, a tear of my own running across my cheek.

That was the day my life fell apart completely. My friends are all gone. I have nobody but myself, my father, and a few others. I have no hope. I hate what has happened. I hate that I live this way. They say hate is a strong word, but I think it's not strong enough. Like me. I am not strong enough. Not for life.......

Well, that got deep.

I guess I should explain myself. I thought of this in the shower. Does that cover it? I suppose it doesn't, but who cares? Think of it how ever you please.