Reality is a lie.

I go through the day with the familiar quiet attitude. Same routine, same faces with falsely plastered grins and marginally pretty faces with sour interiors. I don't care anymore, not that I really ever did, about fakes, liars and the soulless that comprised the more popular population of this fine institute. I prefer to watch them play into the plans fate has laid out for them. Especially her. I hope her hand is full of threes in life's game of poker, all or nothing. She's faker than the rest, if that's possible. I remember with the slightest bitter tinge that day.
She used to be the only friend I had. I'm ashamed that she effects me as much as she does. Now she's the shallowest of the shallow, the most lowest scum at the supposed top. As [insert name] sang, "I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole..." for those of you that do not know, that was "Mr. Grinch" from the Grinch stole Christmas. Yes, I am a dork. She used to be a dork with me. The she I have been cryptically referring to is Dahlia Lewis. However sadistic I am currently is directly related to the fact that she dumped me like an old shoe when I refused to become a part of her new, ugly world.
"Come on Ethan, you have to change with the times!"
"I refuse to. I won't become a mindless drone of society! Look what you've become! Where's my goofy best friend with the big ears and the buck teeth? Where's the person I know?"
"I just grew up. You should too. Look Ethan, I don't want to loose you."
"If you didn't want to loose me, you wouldn't try to change me." the memories contradict themselves. Especially my favorite one, my first kiss.
"Ethan, do you ever wonder what it'd be like to kiss someone?" we're sitting inside my treehouse, avoiding my little sister. We're both about eleven years old. At this point, the hormones building in our bodies are at a high. I ponder this. Her leg is against mine, and my hand is almost but not quite on top of her hand.
"Yeah. I think it'd be awkward." why'd I say that?
"I don't...I think it'd be romantic." she sighs and rests her head on my shoulder.
"Really?" I move my hand on top of hers. She doesn't move.
"Really." she leans in and presses her mouth against mine. Her mouth is soft and taste her cherry lipgloss. It feels like an eternity until my little sister yells
"Your daddy's here Dallie!" we scramble apart and she hurriedly heads to her daddy's car. Lynn looks at me while I peak over the fence.
"Is that lipgloss on your mouth, Ethan?"
The only weakness I've ever had, my Dahlia.
-------------------------------------------------
I do believe a complication has been thrown in.
Romance.
Bleh.

 

*Why'd
*I

 

>:3
Yes
Dahlia 

 

I watch Dahlia out of the corner of my eye as the lunch period passes by. I'm sitting alone in the sunny spot beside the window, poking at what is supposed to be meatloaf, but it's a terrifying shade of gray and the nasty, mushy tater tots aren't appetizing. I keep seeing her with Felix. It was no secret that they were dating, the preppy popular girl and the laid back, chill guy were all the rage, I suppose. Dahlia is an eye catcher-big, dark blue eyes and light brown hair, a pretty face, though I suppose you don't have to be ugly on the outside to be ugly on the inside. I dump the gray glob that seems to cry out as I watch it splat on top of a milk carton in the trashcan. I read over Romeo and Juliet if not simply to say that I actually know what the play is about, Felix walks over.
"Yo man, you have to come to the Base today!"
I began to have the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a dream, or maybe I'm just paranoid, I mean, he's talking with Dahlia and he's halfway across the room...an obvious mistake. I wonder vaguely why old English was so difficult to understand.
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun." Shakespeare certainly did have a way with words, words that I don't understand but sound pretty said aloud. How fitting. I watch each of the people I saw in my dream. Neil following Vivian around, her completely oblivious to his dedication while she floats around like a delicate ghost. Sabrina is hanging on the arm of the big, nameless football player. Felix is with my- I mean Dahlia. I walk around thinking about the dream and the hopeless love story. I collapse into bed when I get home. My sister and her friend don't get back from track for a couple hours. Thank God.
Felix is looming above me with a glad smile and Dahlia is a little kid and a symbol made of fire is burned into the sky above their head, with two dimensional shapes making one that pulls at my soul oddly. I awake in a cold sweat, another crazy dream.
------------------------------------------------
xD I'm lazy sorry I haven't updated sooner to the four readers I have I adore you :3

 

I begin to question my own sanity. This dream repeats itself, every night, the same happy smiles that make me sick. The figure, a square with a circle and a triangle in the middle, emblazoned terribly in the pitch-black background. I keep getting a paranoid twitch when those who were in my previous dream. It haunts me. I want it to be real so badly, but my logical mind knows very well it's impossible. Vivian especially. My ears pop every single time I see her, and I surpress the urge to shudder and cover my ears. Felix terrifies me. Each time I see him smiling, I scream inside. I'm being tortured by my own mind, and it's becoming apparent. I need something that I can't provide for myself. I feel as if my soul is draining away. I decide to finally use the card with the red stipe that's been hanging around my wallet since I got it.
"Starbucks. Starbucks. Starbucks." I chant to myself as the bell rings. Neil escorts Vivian out. You have to admit, he knows how to treat a girl. Quietly I slip out, after mostly everyone has left. Only I, Ms. Waterson, and a girl named Andromeda remain. I stride quickly out of the classroom, Andromeda scrutinizing me. I practically jump into my car and drive to the Starbucks described by Sabrina, and when there hand the card to the cashier with shaking hands. He takes it, looks at it, and tells me
"Men's bathroom, first stall you see, flush it." his voice sounds bored; he doesn't know what it means. Or maybe he does, but he's used to it? I wouldn't be able to get used to it. The prior is much more likely. I stumble into the bathroom, all of suddenly, tired. My adrenalin spike that came from actually arriving at the location and about to do something, wears off quickly. The first stall has a sign that says 'Out of order' but I decide what the heck, and I go in anyways. Inside is a toilet. An old, decrepit toilet. And toilet paper with a questionable yellow stain still attached to the roll. I reach out and flush the old toilet.