Dreaming Away Reality

It's a typical Saturday. Your drowsy eyes are too heavy to open, but your other senses are awakening. You grown inwardly. You have all of Thursday's and Friday's homework awaiting, set to ruin your day. Yet it's the perfect setting. Snuggled up in your duvet, you turn over finding a more comfortable position.

And you let your brain soar. You fly through the clouds, and your insecurities slip away.

Thoughts latch onto new thoughts. No one to judge. No one can find you.

Your stretch your tired limbs in an epiphany of happiness, barley registering your actual surroundings, as you slip further down.

As you drown in the depths of your mind.

Finally you come to rest at a recent day dream. One that has saved you from the boredom of maths, and the bitches of the locker room, and you let you mind play out the fantasy.

Justin Bieber stands before you, his blue eyes glitter the colours of a paradise island, as he stares into your soul, as he caresses your hand, as he compliments you lovingly.

Your wearing a simple white lace dress, as you supermodel legs glide along the beach. Your mind replicates the feeling of the sand sliding through your bear toes, and the sea giggling around your ankles.

You walk in sync with the gorgeous man, still standing by your side, and he snakes his hand around your waste and pulls you closer to his side.

You giggle delightedly, as you collapse onto the soft soothing sand, and Justin Bieber leans over you, blocking you view of the setting sun, with an even more perfect view.

And he kisses your lips, and your mind makes your heart burst with love.

In the sunset, the silhouette of Justin's lips spell out the words 'I love you', and your mind has created the perfection you truly deserve.

But all too soon, your mother comes crashing in, turning on the cackling radio, and your eyes creak open.

And reality sets in.

You heave your heavy body out of bed, and with a sigh, slump over to your wardrobe, attempting to find an outfit that could make yourself worthy of the men from your dreams.

Covering your imperfections with a concealer, and glaring at your body in the mirror.

You heave your school bag from the end of your bed downstairs to your desk, and slave away, not allowing yourself to enter the luxury of your mind until the hells of reality have been dealt with.

Physics first?