Reality is such a terrible thing. Like, when you’re having a super, mega awesome dream and suddenly your body jerks awake and reality smacks you in the face and reminds you you have people to see and things to do and life to live. Sometimes I wish we could all say in dreamland, you know? Because even if you have a nightmare, you’ll still be in a land of fantasy where there are no screaming moms telling you to clean your room or do your homework.
I looked over the screen, frustrated. Not good enough. Not deep enough. Not clear enough. Think! Think! Think!
I sighed and pressed save, feeling my brain ache from the writer’s block.
Maybe Melonie can – oh. Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.
She walked in, wearing her Minnie Mouse nightgown and fuzzy slippers. Her golden blond hair bounced with every step she took and her bluebell eyes sparkled with curiosity. She frowned when she noticed my frustration.
“What’s wrong, Victoria?” she asked. Her eyes glazed over for a brief second, and she suddenly jerked her head in my direction. “You have writer’s block again, don’t you?”
I swear this girl can read my freaking mind.
“Yeah,” I admitted in a monotone, pushing my glasses back up to the middle of my nose. “Stupid mother-loving writers’ block! I hate it!”
I threw my hands up in frustration, grabbing a handful of my soft, frizzy, curly brown hair. Melonie instantly grew worried. She put an arm around my shoulders in effort to calm me down, and pulled me into a hug.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” she whispered, on the verge of panic. “You know what happens when you do.”
I sighed and stared at the scar on my left hand. I silently traced the curve of my jagged scar, that wrapped around my hand and stopped right in the middle of the thin blue vein on my wrist.
“I know,” I said, sighing again. “God I hate Alexundra.”
Just then Sam walked in, his golden eyes alight with concern.
“What up with you, Peacock?” he asked, sitting on my other side. He was dressed in normal jeans and a tee shirt, but he made it look like it was made by Abecrombie and Fitch. Curse his good looks. “Your not usually so sad.”
I picked up a pillow and threw it at his face.
“I’m not sad,” I said in distress. “I’m frustrated.”
“Writer’s block?”
“Writer’s block.”
He groaned, and yanked me away from Melonie, pulling me into his lap.
“I knew there was going to be something wrong with you,” he said, his black yang necklace gleaming in the light. “I was in a good mood this morning.”
I chuckled, grabbing my black leather glove off my nearby computer desk and slipping it over my scarred hand.
“You know you don’t need to wear that thing, right?” Sam stated, his brows furrowing in annoyance. “It covers up your battle scar.”
“That’s the point, dumbutt.” I frowned at him. “People will stare and call me names.”
“Where’s you get that scar, anyway.”
“Classified,” I said without thinking. “Besides, I don’t do things because I want to, I do them because I need to.”
“What are those, you’re catch phrases?” Melonie sassily remarked.
“Yeah,” I said, going over to my closet. “C’mon, we need to go.”
They groaned, and walked out of the room.
I sighed.
Without them, I would have already lost the fight to Alexundra, my other personality. The destructive, evil part of myself that was awakened by Trevor’s evil. But without Trevor… I wouldn’t have meet the most important people in my life.
I still think dreamland kicks butt more than reality though.
***
School sucks. It sucks monkey butt.
Seriously.
Not only do you have to be put into social clicks, but you also have to deal with the popularity and expressing yourself in public. I could write a kick ass poem, and get laughed at for writing poetry in the first place. And as for all you adults who forgot what it feels like to be 12 or 17…you just don’t understand. Teenagers are the cruelest people to ever walk the planet. Some of them have the spirit of Hades alive and controlling their soul.
I was getting something out of my locker when someone walked up to me. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“What now, Amber?” I asked, irritated. Amber Riley is the most controversial girl in school, and for some odd reason she’s had it out for me since the beginning of school. She’s got dark off-black hair, gray blue eyes, pale skin, and the build of a cheerleader.
“Oh nothing,” she said, frowning. “It’s just…I found out something interesting about you.”
I shrugged and she smirked.
“Is it true you got kicked out of military school,” she announced loud enough for everyone to hear. Most of the people in the hall turned around and looked at me, waiting for an answer.
Really? That’s really what she decided to bug me about. That’s not news.
“Yeah,” I said, not really caring. “That’s old news, Riley. Got anything else?”
“Oh yeah,” she said with fake excitement. “I also found out last year you were a druggie. Your parents dropped you because of your wacko-a-doodle addiction and put you in foster care till you got, and I quote, ‘better’.”
I rolled my eyes and shut my locker. She always tries to pull stuff like this. What does she think she’s achieving? Sure, those things may be true, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. She’s only making herself look bad.
“Yeah, true too,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Look, Amber, I’ll give you props for trying to make me look bad, but just to clear things up, I don’t care. Those experiences were horrible, but I lived and bounced back like I always do, so I don’t really care. You’re only making yourself look bad.” She glared hatefully at me as I maneuvered myself out of her path. “I’ll see you in class, Riley.”
***
“What you talk about?” Sam asked with excitement in his eyes.
“Nothing.” I replied flatly.
“Come on! Just tell me!”
“Bu keqi.”
“Please?”
“Bu keqi.”
“I’ll buy you a Strawberry Cheesecake sundae from Rally’s.”
“Bu keqi.”
“I’ll through in the Bacon-zilla.”
“What’s a Bacon-zilla?” Melony asked.
“The name of it is Bacon-zilla. What does it sound like?”
“It sounds like heaven.”
“Oh-kay, fine!” I said, finally cracking. “I’ll tell you – BUT! – you owe me the Bacon-zilla meal with a Strawberry Cheesecake sundae, AND two orders of Chili Cheese fries.”
“Alright,” Sam said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh no, that’s a dangerous look. “But only if I get to take you to a movie afterward.”
Hmm… A date with Sam. That’s a recipe for disaster.
“Okay,” I said. “Amber basically confronted me about my military expulsion and my unfaithful days in rehab along with my parents dropping me. I said I didn’t give a rat’s ass and walked off.”
“So it’s true then!” He said, standing up. His eyes shone in pride. “You DID get kicked out of military school!”
I just told him about my horrid past and all he cares about is military school? Typical teenage boy mind.
“So I’ll see you at seven?” I said in a monotone. He nodded and went back to talking with Melony, which I immediately zoned out of. At that point, the bell rang, and I went back to boring school life, with boring school classes, and blah, blah, blah.
I’m more interested in my dreams.
***
Life…never gets better. The clock ticks on, but does it breathe like you and me? Does it try to make every day last, every day count, because it knows that one stupid mistake can end it all? My wish…my only wish was to be normal. But wishing is just as pointless as dreaming. That’s why I hate reality.
Reality is such a terrible thing. Like, when you’re having a super, mega awesome dream and suddenly your body jerks awake and reality smacks you in the face and reminds you you have people to see and things to do and life to live. Sometimes I wish we could all say in dreamland, you know? Because even if you have a nightmare, you’ll still be in a land of fantasy where there are no screaming moms telling you to clean your room or do your homework.
Reality..sucks. It sucks almost as much as school. Does we, humans, as a species, have to be so damn mean and rude and territorial and stupid and just plain vicious to each other? I mean, in dreamland you can achieve world peace, domination, and absolute blissful happiness… But in reality, if you try any of those things, your looked at like a freak.
Father times clock will always tick on… So my life goal is to make reality as awesome as my dreams.
Peace, love, and happiness,
Alexundra Blood
***
I signed out of www.blogspot.com, content with my latest post. I have my ghost, and I have my past, but…I also have my life which thank god, thank God I am finally in control of!