Lucid Dreams

Edward

People treat love like the ultimate destination. 

"I love you" is definitive.  It is expected.  Some say classic.

How else would you explain that feeling that occupies both head and heart?  

When I hear "I love you,” I laugh, and not for the reasons that you imagine.

Cynical of me, you say?  Perhaps… but in all of my life, I've never had  such overly-processed, sickeningly-saccharine,  and  entirely endearing words directed towards me . 

Jaded, undoubtedly, but jealous… never.

Mine was a life of detached observation.  Moderate solitude allowed a mind’s devotion to studies rather than love sonnets, expanding the mind while neglecting the heart.  The sciences, art, music… these were the things that occupied my time for the better part of a century.  My family grew, and with each new addition I felt myself become more ostracized.   Though never the intention of my loving family, it was just that – love – that marked me out among them.  Alone in a home of three perfectly matched pairs – well… I see the happiness and fulfillment they bring to one another, never really imagining such a thing for myself. 

So I read.  I play my piano.  I hunt.  I read some more.

There is just so much time anymore. 

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Bella

“PANIC!” is the button that should replace “Snooze” on my alarm clock.   

Whirling frantically around my room, late, AGAIN, as neon orange and yellow yell sharply in my mind. 

 I shove everything within reach into my portfolio, stopping only when it resembles a large black pierogi, and run for the door.  I stop when I notice that I’m wearing nothing but a tank top.

I streak -not funny- to the bathroom in a blur, brushing teeth and hopping into jeans.  I don boots and a jacket, and I’m out again. 

I run the three blocks to school, catching the morning ice on my heel more than once and falling hard.  You can’t actually break your ass, right? 

The class is settled when I arrive, so I hurry to an open spot, not needing to garner anymore attention from the rather unseemly Professor Newton.