Reality Ruined My Fantasties

Day One

Dear Reader,

Day Uno. The day I, Rachel was born. Also known as the greatest day in human history. I was my parent's first child, the experiment so to speak. As a baby I must've loved the cold, because I was born on the coldest day of the year. Maybe I'm secretly part frost-giant. Does that make Loki my brother? Anyways back to my story. I was an early baby, born really early in the morning. That's weird because I hate mornings. Can't the universe just skip morning and go straight to afternoon? But I guess then everyone would hate afternoons, and there would be no time for sleeping in, so maybe mornings can stay. Except Monday morning. Like seriously someone take Monday mornings out of my life. Who needs Monday mornings anyway? When I was born, the nurse accused my mother of putting a wig on my head. Apparently I had lots of curly hair. What happened hair? Why did you lose those fantastic curls? Of course my sister inherits the ringlet curls and I get stuck with wavy hair. Wavy hair is so indecisive. It can't decide if it wants to be really curly or really straight. MAKE UP YOUR MIND ALREADY! Please pardon my outburst. I will try to remain calm while wrestling the Blonde Monster that has made its home on my head. Speaking of the Blonde Monster, I remember a time where it and I didn't get along so well. When I was a little child, my blonde hair went way past my butt. I thought I was Rapunzel, or Cinderella; I was very indecisive. Due to the fact that my hair was super long, I would wake up every morning with a rat's nest in my hair. Another reason to hate mornings. The knot would be about the size of an actually rat and hurt worse then pulling teeth to brush out. My mom and I would sit on the floor while she would brush out my hair. Every time she hit the knot I would let out a cry of pain. Eventually my mom got so fed up with my cries, she told me to bark whenever it hurt. I believed this to be a weird yet interesting concept. My dog, Amy, thought I was insane. She was right. After about a year with this crazy long hair I decided to chop it off. At the time I thought it was going to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients. I was wrong. My mother didn't save my hair at all. It ended up in the trash. Like most things in life.

We think we're doing a good thing, but then we realized that we were living a lie. I do that every day. I pull on this mask that tells the world, Rachel is fine, that her life couldn't possibly be better. In reality, I'm tired. I am worn out by the struggles and burdens of this world. Everything makes me worried because I know how quickly it could all go away. I can't sleep at night; my brain is too busy worrying. I let myself think that I'm worthless, that I am useless. I am just in the way of things. I'm always making a mess of things. I trip and fall. I fall hard. Sometimes I don't want to get back up. Wouldn't just be easier to stay here on the ground?

But we don't. No matter how worn out I am, I will always get back up. Why? Because people count on me just like they count on you, Reader. Don't fail them.

Sincerely Yours,

Rae

"Why do we fall Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up."- Thomas Wayne, Batman Begins