Becoming Jasmine Star 8 Daydreamer.

10:30 p.m.

Today is the last day of the year. Though I'm sure there are more acceptable ways to celebrate the coming of the New Year, I find myself sinking deeper into my duvet.

The snow that was once so magical and fluffy is now dirty and slippery. The sky is an insufferable grey, and the below freezing air holds a certain tension to it. Like it's telling me, by twelve tomorrow morning the world will fall off the edge, into the scary unknown.

The feeling of impending dread fills my chest, forcing me to accept it.

Instead, I distract myself with the absolute radiance of a protagonist's world, that I've gotten to know over the year.

I hide myself from the impending doom in a totally different realty.

Everything about this world was perfect.

The protagonist was beautiful.

She had close friends.

An over-bearing brother that was annoying but caring.

A Mother, that made them breakfast in the morning and collected strange souvenirs from their childhood.

She had a Father that worked over-seas, but would stop anything if something was wrong.

People who cared for each other.

Reading these things made me wonder, what parts of these stories were fiction,what parts were real?

Did people have their siblings care like that?

Did moms actually collect the clumsy doodles of their children?

How did one discern fact from fiction?

The knock on my door intruded my thoughts and snapped me back into reality.

"Hey, Samantha, mom wants you downstairs."

My sister peered into my room and was faced with the glaring eyes of the horrible laze-monster I've become.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not like it's my choice."

She rolls her eyes before leaving the room.

I slump down the stairs after her and plop onto the sofa.

The unorganized noise of my younger cousins playing with their new toys and the chatter of my older relatives buzzed throughout the house.

I fiddled with my phone, trying to figure out what I was doing down here.

My eyes wonder off and I could feel myself slipping out of it.

Look, anyone who says, "You can't dream unless you are sleeping" is a total wack-job, and should not be taken seriously.

I have been daydreaming ever since I could remember, which was since I was five. Whenever I feel like I don't know what to do I go to my 'dream-world'.

Where I feel beautiful just being myself.

Where I have friends.

A small apartment filled with stuff I love.

My cat named melon, and a b.u.mble bee themed bathroom.

I'm a photography major, whose pa.s.sion can burn through camera film, I part-time at a job I hate but pays well.

Is it pitiful to dream of something so average?

Probably.

I close my book and look out of the window, cicadas chirped loudly under the summer sun and the room was unbearably hot. I fan my frizzy hair out of my face and open the terrace door. My small garden is taking a hit from heat, but evening will eventually help cool them down.

The photos from my previous shoot rest on my desk, their colorful subjects beg for attention.

"Gosh, why is it so hot today?"

'I wonder if Alexis wants to go out for ice-cream?'

I pick up my phone and shoot a text.

"Gosh Sam, is all you ever think of is food?"

I chuckle.

"Do you want to or not?"

"Fine, I'll make your dream come true!"

*****

Thursday, January 1, 2015
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12:03 a.m.

My eyes snap open from the sudden noise that surrounded me.

The count down on TV finally ended and my relatives are drinking grape juice and sparkling water from plastic wine gla.s.ses and popping party-poppers left and right. A totally sober New Year.

I take in the sight in from my place on the couch. I spotted my parents in the corner, hugging each other, both of them holding a gla.s.s of fake wine in their hand.

"Samantha! You just missed it!"

"I guess she's still to young to stay up 'till the end!"

A peal of laughter ripples though the living room.

'I wasn't sleeping though...'

My mind goes fuzzy and I think about going back to my dreamworld.

'Aunt Sara!'

I fumble to find my phone in the crumpled blankets.

"found it"

Turning the screen on I was greeting by the colorful and bubbly screensaver.

"No new messages."

I can feel the antic.i.p.ation drain from my face.

"She was too busy and forgot."

The voice in my head immediately gets into a defensive stance.

I stand up off the couch and head back to my room.

I have to distract myself before the disappointment tries to take over.

With the radiance of a dream.

Was it wrong to feel so betrayed by my Aunt for giving me false hope?

Probably.

I crawl into my bed and hide under my duvet.

"So Alexis, what have you been up to lately?"