Fifteen

It’s dark. In my head. Alarm goes off. Peel out of bed regretfully. Getting dressed is a dread. Skip breakfast. Get in the car.

Alone. Or maybe other people are there. But still alone. In my head. Music to escape. The only escape. Not a real one but an imaginary world where one day I can go. This isn’t Taylor Swift’s design.

Arrive. Dread. Chest pain. Heavy. Dead inside. Swirling in my head.

Class then class then class. Dread. Dragging. It’s awful. Yelling and badgering. In my head. No good. No merit.

Dreams. Daydreams. Go somewhere else. In my head. Create worlds of possibility. Maybe one day…maybe today’s the day.

But it’s just another bad day. Go home. Doom and gloom again. Sick feeling. Bodiless. Detached. Picks on me. “Don’t tread on me.” But I do.

I think of her. Sweet and beautiful and aware and wicked smart. Compassionate, motivated, curious. Hopeful, real, and afraid. Always in her head. Always ignoring reality. Trapped in the faux bubble of a Hollywood set. No way out.

The bubble will burst. The world will open. The dreams will come true. Even more than imagined. Better and bigger than a fifteen year old’s mind. Get out of my head. Get into my car? We have places to go.