"I wish, I wish I were in a different life where everything is so much better than this life I'm in." I helplessly whispered into the darkness as I let out another quiet sob.
It was one of the days when nothing was at my favor, when the world just decided to blindly hurl all the bags of misfortunes and I unfortunately caught and took the blows of it.
Like how a van just casually crashed into the passenger's seat of my car while I was entering an intersection. Like how I was blamed of the accident (obviously it wasn't my fault) by my own mother; followed with series of offensive and degrading insults and unnecessary name-calling that's paired with slaps on the face, banging of fists on my head like it's a bongo drum, and grabbing fistfuls of my hair as I'm dragged around the house. Like how I realized how badly and desperately I want to die after the near-death car accident.
However, on the flip side of things, my best friends comforted me. Something I never got from my mother and she wonders why I'm emotionally distant from her.
Patrick, who's my best best friend ever since we were in Junior high school, offered to have a mac and cheese and a large box of pizza to be delivered in my house tonight, but I declined. It was very thoughtful and sweet of him though.
Sadly, none of the little good things made me want to live nor sparked a small ounce in me to keep living. If I'm gonna live the next couple of days being blamed for the accident together with strings of degrading and hurtful words coming from my mother, then I don't want it. I've never felt this exhausted of this life.
I've been wishing for my death long before this car accident. My life hasn't been pleasing to continue living through. Maybe my deathwish for myself was about to come true during that car accident, but it seemed that something change its mind then reduced the impact of the accident to just crushing my car instead of completely crashing into me.
I sighed and then tucked myself in, lying on my back and staring at the pitch black; feeling my tears run just above my ear and in my hair.
I chanted my desperate wish over and over until I dozed off to a dreamless sleep.
"I wish, I wish I live in a different life."
✨
"Y/N, wake up. It's noontime." A very familiar male voice said as I heard him walk into my room and roll the window blinds up.
Wait, I don't have window blinds and men are not allowed to just fucking barge in my room. What the hell?
I jolted awake from my slumber and sat up on my king-sized bed. Huh? THIS ISNT MY FUCKING BED NOR IS THIS MY FUCKING ROOM!
"Shit!" I yelled in panic as I quickly hopped off of the bed and landed on the fur rug covered floor. What the hell is going on?
"Would you wear this?" The same man with a very familiar voice asked.
I turned to the side and saw a slim blonde-haired man in a beige blazer and a pair of jeans. He's wearing a pair of black socks and a plain black shirt underneath. He's standing in front of the half-open closet. Who the fuck—what the fuck—
My eyes widened as the man turned around, holding up a pair of plaid pants and a designer white shirt.
Oh and did I tell you that that blonde man is Patrick? As in my best-friend-forever Patrick?
He looks so damn different, but I felt my body ease once I recognized him.
"Patrick?" I curiously called out.
"Yes?" He asked in the same curious tone of voice that I used, tilting his head a little to the side.
"Since when did you change your appearance?! Where the hell are we?!!" I exclaimed, desperate to have an answer with all these real time weirdness.
"Hey! If that's your way of complimenting my fashion sense and good looks, thank you very much." He responded sassily. "And you're in your room, Y/N. Are you hungover?"
I shook my head sideways. My head swirled as I felt overwhelmed with the situation. I sat on the edge of the big ass bed and took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down.
"Oh my god," I heard Patrick mutter in concern as I heard his footsteps hurriedly walk to me.
Patrick looks sinfully good. His hair is brushed up. Oh my. He's got his sideburns shaved off and the sides of his head neatly trimmed. He's wearing a fucking brown button up blouse, which is tucked in his pair of slim-fit black trousers. I've never seen him in such get-up ever before.
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My room is big and luxurious. There's a fucking chandelier up to the ceiling and holy shit is the headboard on my bed tufted? Oh of COURSE it's fucking is! And it's framed with an beautifully and intricately carved golden frame. Why is everything luxurious all of a sudden? What the hell did I wake up to?
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Maybe this is just a dream. Dreams manifest the things that you've been wanting and fearing the most, right? And I've been daydreaming and wanting of this life and somehow fearing of Patrick changing into someone unrecognizable and I literally just woke up to all of those.
Maybe if I allow myself to pass out, I'll finally wake up from this weird dream that's way too damn good to be my reality.
•••
Howdy, frens! I'm back with a new imagine series!! This has been in my drafts for so long and I've been insecure and anxious if publishing this bc this is out if my comfort zone to write about, but this is something that has given life to my drive, motivation, and inspiration to write again.
Thank you so much for reading my works! It warms my heart that you spare a bit of your time to read my stuff. I appreciate you so much.
