The Wish (Completed)

Chapter 46: A Bruised Ego

Reading is such a beautiful way to dilute reality. Getting lost in the words, you're in your own little world. It's almost as if time suddenly stops. Everything around you is blocked out, except for that wondrous story. Once I begin to read, that is it. All of my problems dislocate themselves. It's my therapy, how I escape. If I can't run like I want to do, I might as well slow everything around me.

The leaves on trees stop rattling. Light from the sun might as well set, because I can't see it. Chirping birds die, I can no longer hear. It's almost like I become the book. I'm living in it, touching it, experiencing the happenings. Too bad I'll never know what the words taste like, even if they roll off of my tongue.

I love the crisp edge of paper when I go to turn a page. The scent of an old book contents my nerves. You know a book is good if it's worn. A book is really good; if you can read it twice. Reading makes me stop for a minute, analyzing the plot and characters. Where are they going on their journey? How will they get there? What will interfere? Who will interfere? The questions are endless.

Some books are predictable, others have twists. All words have meaning behind them. Even if the word is as subtle as it. Unfortunately, people use words against one another. Words they don't even mean to say. No one overlooks them, and hurt comes into play. I wish I could take back what I said to Jason. What's done is done and I can't turn back time.

The wind has good intentions, trying to turn my page, but I'm not that lazy. I hold onto the page until the words seep into my mind and control my thoughts. One of my biggest pet peeves as a reader is when people purposely crinkle the pages of my books. I hate the creases people makes when saving a page. I just use a simple piece of paper. Anything will do, just don't fold the corners of the page! Please!

A few days ago, Gavin told me I'm too particular. That I'm not pliant enough. He says I always push my chair in, no matter where I'm at, which is true. I say thank you too much, been told that before from Jason.

Whenever I drive, he pointed out that I always wear a seat belt. It's safe! Plus, I feel extremely naked without one. Apparently, I follow the rules all the time, and I'm too nice. I typically don't like to do anything without permission.

I'll always asks to use someone's bathroom, even if I've known them for seven years. Shit. I even apologize to the damn refrigerator when I bump it accidentally. Inanimate objects don't even have feelings! I still treat them as if they do. I feel bad driving cars, they work so hard, feel as though they get tired of the stop and go.

When I was a younger driver, I hit a possum and bawled. That was just a possum, don't want to imagine hitting a deer, or cat. Speaking of vehicles, tires squeal, my eyes tear from the book and follow the intruding noise.

I almost jump up out of my seat, because I thought it might be Jason. Jason doesn't drive a Chevelle. No, not now. Chad please no. The gravel forms a tunnel of dust, acting as smoke. Chad drives straight into my yard, creating ruts. Speeding right up to the front porch, this time I actually do jump.

The door perched open, waiting, waiting for him to get out. A brown boot launches out, touching the grass. Skinny jeans wrap tightly around his legs. The only thing is, those are not his legs. Chad may have dainty legs, but those legs belong to a woman. Fuck. Blonde hair whips out smacking the windows of his car. He let this bitch drive his car but not me?

Chenelle slams the door hard. I know for a fact if dickweed were here, he'd throw a fit. Book still in hand, I place it on the rocking chair, where it slides to the back. The wind has picked up and I'm blinded by my hair.

Before I can push it out of the way, Chenelle stomps over and grabs me. Her probably perfectly manicured nails dig into my skin. Right when I'm about to shake my hair away, I feel a punch. "Mmph." In the eye, I clutch my face. As much as I didn't want to, I made disgruntled noises.