If I Stay » Parker

when i dream

seven;
when i dream.

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WHEN I DREAM about what a perfect world looks like, a whirlwind of different possibilities graced my mind. I would dream about graduating high school and getting to fulfill my ambitions at Juilliard. I dreamt about living a life overflowing with a passion for music, being able to play in the best symphonies and orchestras, something I'd wanted ever since I was little. I always liked to believe that whatever you put your energy towards in life, the universe would eventually return it back to you; that whatever you gave you would soon receive.

And so, I worked to turn my dreams into reality. I turned all my attention and energy to the things I thought would bring me the most joy. I spent hours practicing my instrument until my fingers were numb, my shoulders bruised and my feet sore. I gave my everything into playing the violin, knowing that practice made perfect, and that if I set my mind to something I would soon see the rewards.

This type of mentality was how I faced everything in my life. My schoolwork was only unmanageable if I didn't work to find a way to succeed. My family only brought me down when I didn't try and lift them up and show them love. My friends, my problems, even my future all existed accordingly to the way I had hoped for. I felt in control of my whole life, and I thought that was what living was.

But then when Peter came along, all of that changed. The one thing I couldn't control were the feelings I had bubbling up inside of me every time his name appeared on my phone, or he took my hand, or he whispered a goodbye after each date. He had spun my entire life around and left me completely blindsided, breathless and craving more.

I realized that a perfect world was one where there was a little bit of uncertainty laced with exhilaration, which was exactly what Peter brought me. A perfect world was one with him in it.

That world came crashing down when he left. It was another thing I had no control over, and it brought nothing but despair into my heart. Seeing him walk away hurt me, but it hurt even more to know that I was the one that pushed him out. Maybe I was right. Maybe I was wrong. All I knew was that I hurt not just myself, but the boy I loved.

These thoughts were scattered throughout my mind as I stood on the roof of my apartment building, having climbed up the ladder off of my fire escape. Standing in the same place where I first fell for him was a bittersweet moment; a rich nostalgia and a sharp regret coated my heart.

The cold air nipped at my nose, and I shivered against the breeze, nothing to warm me up other than myself. I was alone, feeling like a simple speck of material against the out stretching New York skyline, a smudge against a canvas of artificial stars. Days and days had passed, and nothing seemed to be able to ease the numbness I felt in my heart.