Forget Me Not

Chapter One: It's Him

Do you ever find yourself awake at 4:32 in the morning searching for the objects that create the shadows on your walls or staring at the collective dust that happen to be floating mid-air? You're not awake, but you're not asleep either-4:32 AM: It's that minute, where your entire world is finally still and for those sixty seconds, you can finally breathe and forget about the thoughts that re-awaken you every damn moment of the day. Like, what does "life" exactly mean?

Ironically, Hitch is playing in the background and I can hear Will Smith answering me with, "Life is not about how many breaths you take, but about the moments that take your breath away." For the past twenty-two years of my life, I don't recall ever having one of those. I mean, a "breath-taking" moment. Well, at least, not until this morning. For the first time in my life, I've done something that has finally managed to pull my heart out of my chest. All I can hear besides my baby brother snoring is the booming that's going on inside of me.

Ba...bump...Ba...bump...Ba...bump

One hour, twenty-eight minutes. Five thousand two hundred and eighty seconds until my life...no world, may or may not change entirely. Trying to lay still, my body only trembles more. Every inch of my nails are bitten (I thought I quit that habit ages ago) and worse, I can't stop myself from tossing and turning. In the blink of an eye, it becomes 5:59.

It's funny how time can be representative of certain moments-11:11, 4:32, and now...5:59. The next minute is my version of the grim reaper: Depending on my fate determines whether I'll be created or destroyed. Sitting myself up, I collect the strands of my hair together and slap both of my cheeks to put my Game Face on. You know, the Game Face-where you tighten your brows and squint your eyes to trick your opponent into thinking that you're not fazed by anything. In this case, the competition is between me and the screen of my laptop. Pretending that I won't be hurt no matter what fate deals me, I catch my breath and sign into my email.

Here we go...

Dear Summer Rogers,

Congratulations! Lancaster Publishing House has officially chosen your manuscript to be published in the spring of 2015. We would like to meet with you regarding the terms of your contract as soon as possible. Please contact our company in order to schedule your appointment at (800)-LAN-BOOK.

We look forward to meeting you and once again, congratulations.

Sincerely,

Lancaster Publishing House

Troy Lancaster, CEO

I've always believed in the greater prevalence of bad days rather than good days so when surreal moments like these come around, I learned that you need to relish in them simply because they're rare. For the first time in my life, my expectations are starting to meet the standards of my reality and it's well, unfathomable. Ignoring the consequences, I start screaming until the highest pitch of my voice is reached. Like lightning, these days strike you by surprise so you highlight them like quotes in your favorite books. When you look back on your life in chapters, you'll feel all the beauty in the world from those sixty seconds of temporary happiness. You'll remember that your life does count for something, grinning and bearing while similar moments start to queue.

--

The lights of the entire house flicker on and I can see my parents making their way into my room.