July 2, 2020

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for, and sometimes don't like." -Lemony Snicket

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Perhaps it was crazy to believe that I ever lived an ordinary life.

I knew that I kept lying to myself every day.

My entire family was unusual, and I knew it from the beginning. Nevertheless, I kept telling myself these crazy lies, in the hopes that one day I'll end up normal.

These lies halted one faithful evening three years ago.

I'm still pushing through quarantine, living in continual depression, and dejection. The only thing that I have to do is think to myself and inscribe this journal. That, or socialize with my family.

My sister, Amber, hasn't disturbed me too extensively, frequently playing on the switch, and lounging around the house, executing whatever puzzle she can find. My sister and I haven't always gotten along. But recently, she's matured and hasn't been as crazy as usual. I think quarantine might have gotten to her. But it might have been her growing up. She's going into 4th Grade this year, and I'm proud of her. She's pushed through these tumultuous times.

My brother, Wyatt, on the other hand, is still the massive ball of the vigor that he's always been. I feel awful, because he's too young to have many friends to hang out with, and is constantly asking me to play with him. Don't get me wrong, he's precious, and does have friends, it's just that he can't associate with them. This year he is presumed to be going into kindergarten and will be moving up in the world.

My mom has been taking care of all of us. She's recently been able to hang out with her friends and is thrilled to start the volleyball season.

My dad has been working hard down in our basement, and his job is in no peril. They say that his company has been doing better than ever, despite quarantine.

My best friends and I have been getting on calls together, even hanging out and social distancing.

So, with all this in mind, why aren't I happier?

I have a remarkable family, and a stable life, which isn't in any danger. I can contact my friends, and live in a chronic state of relaxation. It confuses me. Maybe it's because I get too philosophical, and start talking like this.

I mean, who speaks like this, all theatrical and dismal?

And why do I keep telling myself that I'm happy?

Which is the biggest lie of all.

This all transpired to me the evening before a dream I had that night.

The night was typical, I got into my Clipper's Swimming shirt, and put on some shorts. Walked over to my bathroom, brushed my teeth.

I guess the only weird thing was that I kept staring at the mirror. Looking back at myself in a profound way.

My sister interrupted me, "Whatcha lookin at, Lauren?"

"Oh, nothing, just looking in the mirror. My hair isn't too crazy is it?" I said quickly.

"I don't think it matters, no one's going to watch you while you sleep." she retorted, rolling her eyes, and gazing away from me.

"Fine, you win, I was being weird," I mumbled sarcastically.

Usually, I wasn't one to give up easily, but tonight I didn't mind. I didn't bother.

She took the hairbrush from the drawer beneath me and started brushing her long, curly blonde hair.

She glanced at me with her vast chestnut eyes and said, "Do you need something?"

"Sorry, Amber." I replied, quickly looking away from her.

I stared at my own green eyes in the mirror and grabbed a second brush from the drawer.

My hair was much shorter than Amber's, as it only draped over my shoulders. My hair was a thick dark chocolate brown, that split at the ends and curled.

"I really need a haircut..." I mumbled.

I grabbed some lotion and washed my face because skincare for someone my age is essential. I'm 12 years old, and have been... well... you know what.

I removed my circular earrings and my silver ring from my left hand.

I walked out of the bathroom awkwardly shuffling past Amber, and into Wyatt's room.

"You almost ready for bed, bud?" I asked him.

"Yeah! Can you read me a story?" he announced with tons of emphasis on all of his words.

He's recently been watching a lot of TV, and has started speaking like the characters from his shows, and talking like he's breaking the fourth wall. I'm not going to lie, it's kind of getting annoying.

"Sure, which one?" I asked, sitting down on his Star Wars-themed bed.

He provided me with a cheerful smile, and I looked at him for a moment.

Practically savoring the time with him, just by awkwardly looking at him.

He nearly resembled my sister, with his curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Although, he has more of a tan complexion and a birthmark on his leg.

He had on pirate PJs and was holding his favorite stuffed animal, Hobbs. Hobbs was his little stuffed tiger, that was based on the Hobbs from the comics.

"I want you to read Goodnight Moon." he exclaimed, grabbing the book from a basket and holding it in the air.

My parents had constantly read Goodnight Moon to me as a child. Every single night. It wasn't because they wanted to, it was because I wanted to. They memorized the book and had it ingrained into their minds.

I smiled at him and gladly sat down on the bed next to him.

My dad sauntered into the room, "Is Lauren reading to you, buddy?" he asked Wyatt.

"Yeah, we're reading Goodnight Moon." Wyatt explained.

"I bet I can read it to you without looking at it." my dad declared, almost as if to brag, "But I'll read it at the same time as Lauren, so she still gets to read to you."

And at the same time, I and my dad began, "In the great green room

There was a telephone

And a red balloon.

And a picture of-"

I flipped the page, "The cow jumping over the moon. And there were three little bears sitting on chairs."

I looked at Wyatt for a moment and smiled.

We narrated the book, with emphasis and vigor, while Wyatt gaped at us in awe.

"Goodnight stars.

Goodnight air.

Goodnight noises everywhere." I finished with a flourish and stood up from Wyatt's bed.

My dad turned off the lights and walked over to  Wyatt, who was nestled under the covers.

I walked out of the room, and into the hallway, and thought about the things I did as a child.

I ambled over to my room and collapsed in my bed.

It was 12:30, and I wasn't even tired.

My family had been on a very messed up schedule ever since quarantine started.

I opened the blinds and let the light sink into my room.

I stared out at the street, and carefully and delicately walked over to my large bed.

I pushed over the lion pillow that I cuddled with (his name is Darth Lion), to make room for me in the bed.

I snatched my other stuffed animal, Porg (full name: James K. Porg), and wrapped both of my cuddle items into my arms.

A lot of people would consider it odd to sleep with stuffed animals still, but I think of it like this:

If parents want to cuddle with each other, then why can't children want to cuddle with something too? Obviously, it'd be weird for me to be sleeping with my parents or siblings, so I just use a life-sized stuffed animal.

I don't know, I'm kind of strange, to begin with.

My mom walked into my room and sat on my bed.

It was hard to see her blonde hair and blue-grey eyes in the dull light, but I knew they were there.

She asked, "Ready?"

"Yep." I responded.

"I hope you have a great day tomorrow, and I hope that this all ends soon," she confessed.

It was difficult not to pray for quarantine to end.

"I love you." I said.

"I love you too." she responded, planting a kiss on my forehead.

My dad walked into the room behind her, and declared, "I love you."

"I love you two." I responded (yes I spelled it like that on purpose).

"I love you three." he continued.

My father and I had been counting the days by I-love-you's except by trillions.

"I love you...Six hundred and eighty-three trillion." I finished.

"Good job." he responded, with a smile on his face.

It was easy to see his hair, as it was hard not to notice. He lacked a haircut.

His curly black hair barely curved over his ears but poofed out enough to be obvious. He looked at me with his green eyes, and said, "See you in the morning... ish..."

I laughed, and replied, "Night."

I wasn't tired, not in the slightest bit.

But I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.

To dream the dream or nightmare, that would change my life.