"I need something to write," I muttered. "Something good. Something that'll make people become my followers...or subscribers...or followers?"
I was deep into though, perched at my Sony laptop. My window was open slightly to my left and welcoming to the chilled night air. The month was May, and I found that the closer the days got to school officially being out and summer taking over, the more excited I got.
But I wasn't excited for the things everyone else was. While other popular kids in my grade probably spent their nights dreaming up steamy late-nihgt makeout sessions with seniors and skinny dipping at camp, I was thinking about the only thing that seemed to matter anymore...my writing.
Writing gave me something to do. It made me happy. It made me feel elegant when my fingers brushed the tips of my keyboard's letters, and I especially loved that feeling I got when I pressed the familiar ink of a G2 Pilot pen down on to paper to plot out my next story line. Why did I even have to try to uphold the basic structure of a social life when I had all I needed at my finger tips? I had colorful words dancing along my mind, friends to chat at a moment's notice on FaceBook if I needed help, and I had novels written by all my favorite authors lining my shelves. To me, I was living the good life. To me, I had all I needed.
"Well, if I'm not going to be typing tonight, I might as well get some rest," I muttered to myself, standing up. Dutifully, I snapped my laptop shut and checked the clock--it read 11:47, just in time to catch the midnight episodes of Friends on TBS.
Wasn't this the good life?
I spent my time brushing my teeth, reaching every tooth individually. I popped out my contacts with practiced care, and then I happily dove into my bed for a good night's rest. I hadn't been able to tell earlier whilst scouring the internet for something to inspire my writing, but I was dead tired. Between the work that I was forced into at the local smoothie shop, school, and my writing, I ended up most nights either passed out or feeling high--always one or the other.
I turned down the volume of my TV as my eyes fluttered shut. In the quiet, it became apparent that I'd forgotten to shut my window. I didn't care, though. I was so tired that my mother beating me over the head with my very own laptop couldn't have woken me up.
I was carried away into dreamland, and just as my eyes fluttered shut, I could feel the oncomings of a dream sparking up. But what kind of dream was it?
Surrounded by complete and utter whiteness I stood, dressed head to toe in black. I was so confused. This wasn't a dream. This looked like-
"You've been given a chance to change your life," announced some higher deity, expanding her arms dramatically. I supressed my laugher.
"You won't be laughing soon!" she said forcefully.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask bashfully, my teen angst kicking into overdrive. She shot me an evil glare, so I backed down a bit.
"Well, in case you were going to care for a moment, you've been given a chance-"
I pulled a breath in.
"-a chance to get to live another life. A chance to get to know all that you're missing."
I laughed. What could I possibly be missing?
"So," she announced again, her voice fading away. "As soon as I'm gone, you're in dreamland," she said.
Suddenly, she was gone.
Poof.
And then gone.
Looking around at my surroundings, a muddled look clouded my face. That is, until everything changed.
I was standing in the middle of my middle school, dressed in the most fashionable, hipster clothes that all the hipters on Tumblr reblog. All of a sudden, the biggest bitch at my school ran up to me, squeeling.
"OMG, tell me about it!" she squeeked, grinning.
"What the-"
"Did he ask you out?" asked another girl I recognized, popping up behind me.
"Did-"
Swirling, I came to terms with what had just happened.
I had to have a social life now.
