I suppose some people see me. I'm the girl at the bookstore. The one with punky auburn hair and blue eyes. I'm the one that stands behind the counter, dark clothes and eccentric make-up. The one with the fake smile and the fake laugh. The manufactured politeness and the acceptable language. But that's not really me, I suppose.
I'm the girl that at home, cusses like a sailor and acts like a jackass. I constantly fear the mirror and my only happiness is manufactured by music. The one that fears that she will never be happy. The world may never be 'shiny' to me. I may just be the only one left at the bottom of the ocean, dreaming of the taste of oxygen.
Now, don't get me wrong. Please, I have friends and family. Most are dysfunctional, but it works for us I guess. But some days I just wish that life would change. I want the life I'm writing about it in my 'other' notebook (You know... The one people write in when they're suppose to be taking notes in class, or analyzing a movie.) Where the prince charming (or, in my case, slightly aggressive anti-hero ^.~) comes to save my life. He will take me away to some wonderful place I've never been, and show me the time of my life.
Yeah, that's right, I'm the girl dreaming of something I can never have so that I don't have to live my life. As it is, my life isn't interesting or exciting. I suppose that is where my story starts; one of those nights.
:Had she really wanted me to leave? Where would I go? What would she do for the rest of the rent money?: My mother and I had fought. Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't a she's to blame; I'm to blame thing. We fight cause we're both too stubborn and bull headed to realize we're both wrong. I fight with her just as much as she fights with me, and that doesn't make it any easier. I closed my eyes and pretended that there was someone there, a beautiful, caring, funny guy who held me close to himself and whispered into my ear that everything would be okay. I imagined that he was about 5' 10" with shaggy black hair that hung in his eyes. He would have bright green eyes and a build of lean, toned muscle. He would be perfect.
I rolled into my body length pillow and snuggled against it. Imagining it was him, that I could fall asleep safely in his arms and he would hold me tight and whisper into my ear that everything would be fine. I imagined it so hard that I could feel his breath move my hair and warm my ear. No really I felt it. My eyes flew open. There, lying on my bed holding my close was the man of my dreams - LITERALLY.
"Holy fuck!" I cried loudly pulling away from him and falling off my bed. "How the fucking-hell-???" I whispered in astonishment. He REALLY was perfect, in a black dress shirt and jeans he lay back on my pillows with a smirk that I had prayed I would see in real life.
"Jillian, it's alright." He smiled. I was speechless.
"This isn't happening. This is my imagination getting away with me!" I've lost my mind. I'm over the edge, seriously.
"Babe, you better be quieter then that or you'll wake your mother and if she finds me here..." He sucked in a breath. "Things could get bad."
"See you here?!?" Hysterical... yep that's it... I'm clinically insane. Someone call the doctor, they need to fix my brain. "She wouldn't see you here. You don't really exist." He held his hand to his heart as if I'd hurt him. "You're a figment of my imagination. My brain created you cause I was lonely, but it's okay! You can just go back in my head and stay there where I can dream about you!"
"You dream about me?" He smirked at me again. "I... you... bah!" *facepalm*
"Jillian Vaughn!" I heard my mother's groggy voice and the sound of her walking to my room.
"Hurry! Get back in my head!" He laughed and walked into the closet, crouching down on the ground behind the door. "THAT is not my head!" I whispered sharply as my door flew open.
"Jillian, what the hell are you doing. You have work in the morning." My mother said grumpily. "Sorry mum. I'll shut up and go to bed. I didn't mean to wake you up. I was dreaming. See you in the morning?" I rambled out quickly.
"Goodnight angel. GO TO SLEEP." She laughed and walked away. She left the room and I turned to the figment...... named? Oh shit, in my dreams he didn't have to have a name. He was just a dream. What am I saying, he was still just a dream I was just tired and stressed and let my imagination get out of control.
"What's your name?"
"Kayden." He smiled walking out of the closet and beginning to unbutton his shirt. I blushed a furious red and looked at the carpet. "You work at 7:15?" He asked softly before climbing into MY bed. Apparently he had no intention of going back to my head.
"Yep. And I need to go to bed. So..." He did nothing more then scoot a bit so there was more room. OH HELL! He's a figment of my imagination I'll share the bed with him if I want. I do it all the time in my head. I climbed into bed and rolled away from him. "G'night Kayden. I'm assuming that when my alarm goes off that I won't see you.... so G'bye." He laughed and threw his arm over my waist, pulling me close to his bare chest.