Reality

It was the first day of my junior year when I discovered my love for all things fictional was becoming a problem. I loved how every problem could be fixed and everything would end up ok. I loved the relationships that developed and the cuteness factor that could simply not be obtained in reality. I loved pretending that those characters were me and dreaming my life could be like theirs.

Of course there was a part of me that realized that couldn't be possible. This was the age of jerks (and not the ones with a soft side underneath), mindless love, and divorce. Yeah people just don't stay together.

That's why this year I vowed that I would never date in high school, it won't work out so what's the point? Why have a relationship when my expectations of love are so high?

When I think thoughts like that it makes me wish I never fell in love with books. They ruin your life. Not just because they give you a major case of feels or make you cry when a beloved character dies, I'm being literal.

If I never started reading I wouldn't have such high expectations. I wouldn't expect true love to be all cute and perfect. I wouldn't expect whoever I'm with to have the most beautiful face I've ever seen in my life. I wouldn't expect them to just drop everything for me. I wouldn't expect something that is obviously not possible.

I wish I could just be normal. Fall in love young and have my heart broken until I find the right person for me. But how am I suppose to do that if I wont accept anyone for who they truly are?

A/N: Just a little opener to my new story. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it!