Dreams

Many disagree with me, but I believe that we all need a rediculous dream that could become possible. We need that for the hope it gives us and for the little bit of insanity that's good for us. Being too realistic takes the joy out of life. A dream is there to give us a sense of unrealism. What good is it not to sometimes act like a kid again and pretend that you are a fairy or you are a princes locked up in a tower and imprisoned by a dragon. Being too realistic takes the joy out of life. To put it simply, relism is impossible and being to realistic is overall depressing. YOU CAN'T BE A REALIST! To even attempt to do anything in life shows that somewhere, subconsciously or otherwise, that you have a dream and you are trying to achieve it, realistic or not. How many people become president? 1 every 4 years. How many people try anyway? How many people will win first place at FNL Nationals (Debate)? 1 person/team in each event out of a total of 2,500 kids. How many people will win the Nobel Peace Prize? 1 in a million. So what? You can still try! It doesn't matter how impossible it might seem. It doesn't matter how many people or statistics are against you! The average homeless person off the street can get a place to live if they just work towards it. I don't care how hard it is. I'm not talking about the realistic side of it. The fact is... it's possible. That's all that is needed for most people to get their butts off the ground and TRY! There are no true realists in the world today because anyone who gets up and does something is a dreamer, no matter how big or small, important or insignificant, the dream might be. The fact is, IT EXISTS! Don't you ever try to tell me otherwise!!!

Something new...

Love. That’s a normal 13 year old’s first thought when she sees someone gorgeous. Especially when it’s Eddie Backer. His soft, shiny hair, twinkling blue eyes, dazzlingly white smile. He had any girl he could ever want wrapped around his finger. Except me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. None of my friends understood why, but none of he could see what I saw: the truth.

I’m Elsie Bradburry. I’m not the normal teen. I’m not even human. I’m not sure what I am, but I’m not as normal as everyone thinks. I look normal, but magic can easily hide the differences between my body and the average teen’s.

Pointed ears, slated eyes, extra-long eyelashes, longer canine teeth, extra long hair, blood-red pupils. At first I thought I was an elf, then a vampire. I’m neither of those. I don’t have extra awesome reflexes or long life. I’m not invincible and don’t thirst for blood. I actually abhor the thought of eating any meet no matter the species. I’m the absolute opposite of a vampire.

The reason I destest Eddie Backer is not because he is a blood-sucking feind. Rather because of the way he treats my kind: magic kind. He is just a regular human with the knowledge of the magic world. To an extent. He doesn’t know what I actually am but he knows of other people who are like me: different; not entirely human. Hidden amongst the hustle and bustle, the rushing to and fro, the business of life. Some hide behind full body masks, creating an illusion of normalcy just like me. Some look perfectly normal, just have to keep their attitudes in check. But most choose to separate themselves from the world. The majority are different but choose to hide.

 The few humans who know of our world choose to ignore the truth. Few of them act upon the knowledge and fewer of those act kindly. Eddie is one of those few who choose the easier action: to act unkindly in defense against something that’s different. He chose hatred, racism and violence, and as someone who has always excepted people as they are, even the vampires, I could not understand his feelings towards those in possession of magic. Towards my people. As much as I loath and despise some of them, they are still my people.

My friends could never understand. They always said “What’s wrong with you? He’s a perfectly nice person. Plus he’s so cute!” but they didn’t know my big secret. I could never tell them, as much as I wanted to. They would react out of horror and fear instead of wonderment, sympathy and support.

I didn’t have a single person in the world who knew my secret. Not even my parents. I didn’t even know who they were. They didn’t exist in my memory. And if they are alive today, they are nowhere near here. But sometimes I feel as though someone is watching me…

I was startled out of my revere as MaKayla shook me, yelling in my face.

“Hey! Are you listening to anything I’m saying? I’m trying to explain why Eddie is such a great guy! Oh forget it! You don’t normally listen anyways!”