This Is Destiny

My alarm clock buzzes me awake at 6:00am. I hit the snooze and allow myself to lie in bed for another seven minutes. In that time frame I fall back to sleep only to have the weirdest dream about an intelligent zombie uprising. Wouldn't that be scary, zombies with the ability to think and plan. We'd be fucked.

The clock buzzes again at 6:07 and I'm forced to peel myself from my way-too-comfy-for-me bed. The floor is cold on my feet as I head to my bathroom. I slowly turn the hot water on as far as I could bear it and look in the mirror. I was so tired I didn't bother taking my make-up off, resulting in a bad case of raccoon eyes. I laugh at myself, getting some slight entertainment out of how I look and take my clothing off piece by piece; throwing it to the floor in the process. I let the scolding water burn my skin as I stand in the shower. I open my eyes and look at my burning, red skin. I quickly shut the water off and jump out of the shower. “Fuck!” I yell as I look at the time. I throw the towel on the floor and grab the jeans I wore yesterday. I struggle to find a clean shirt. I should probably do laundry at some point.

After I finally find a Glamour Kills shirt that I haven’t seen in months, I slide my bag over my shoulder and slam the door shut behind me. I wave to my neighbor as she waters her plants outside. I drop my skateboard on the pavement and jump on top of it. Being a college kid has its downfalls, like owning a car on campus. I zigzag through the parked cars in front of the building computer tech building and flip it up once I hit the curb. I meet up with my friend Jessica before heading into our multimedia classroom. I take my seat and begin working on my final project, a music video of All Time Low’s ‘Lost In Stereo’ from different shows I’ve been to. I smile as I watch the band work together perfectly. I envy their job.

Once class was over, Jess and I walk to grab coffee from the campus café. We talk about finals, her boyfriend, how I hate my job. These are the three topics that make our conversations. We part ways for a few hours, but meet up after we’re both done for the day. I sigh as I finally take my shoes off. “What’s for dinner?” She asks. I suggest sushi and she happily agrees before asking if Rob could join us. I nod in approval and push my flattened bangs out of my face. Jess is a pretty girl, downright gorgeous when she’s seen with me. All the guys whistle to her as she flips her golden, wavy blonde hair over her shoulder. They look the other way when I’m around. I always compare my flat, dirt brown hair with her golden locks. The result is always feeling bad about myself and purchasing some volume boosting shampoo and a box of hair dye. I never use either.

We watch a segment of an All Time Low interview as we wait for Jess’ boyfriend to pick us up. Just as they’re about to perform “For Baltimore” we hear his horn beep and her phone buzz. I peel my eyes off the screen and hit the power button of the remote. I hum the melody to the song as I sit in the backseat of the cramped, messy car. I watch the couple as they hold hands in the front seat, making gooey eyes at each other. I feel a sensation in my stomach that makes me want to hurl.

Once we’re seated at my favorite Japanese restaurant, we discuss graduation. I begin to stress myself out as Rob talks about his big psychology research presentation. My stomach churns at the thought of failing my senior project and having to retake my classes. I start mentally beating myself up and rethinking my project idea. Jess and Rob look at me as if I’m crazy, while I dig my nails into my skin. They ask me if I’m okay, but tune them out as I obsess over my music video. “Why does school have to be so fucking stressful?”

“Because we’re looked as failures if we don’t go?” Rob says half joking. He’s always mocked my choice in major, Mr. I’m Going to Be a Psychiatrist. Maybe it was stupid of me to follow my dreams of multimedia. Maybe I should have settled with boring business or accounting, something that’ll be useful in the end.

I excuse myself before our food makes its way to our table. I shut the bathroom door behind me and lean against it. I breathe in deep and exhale quickly. I close my eyes and bang my head against the hard wood. I roll over and face myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy due to lack of sleep, my skin paper white and my hair in need of a new anti-frizz product. I splash my face with cold water and slap my cheeks repetitively to get some color into them.

I see my spicy crab roll on the table, waiting for me once I come back. Jess gives me a concerned look but I shake it off with a smile. I inhale my roll and lean back, my thoughts getting the best of me. “Why can’t we just be in a band? Tour all over the place, write music, getting paid to be awesome pretty much,” I begin my rant. “I mean, look at All Time Low. They’re touring non-stop, selling out shows and what do they have to do? Write songs and smile pretty for the camera?” I huff out my frustrations as my mind goes back to my video project; I begin to stress out again.

After getting angry at myself about my schooling choices for about the fifth time in a two hour period, I am home. I kick my shoes off and fall down onto the couch. Flipping through the channels, I’m not satisfied to settle for anything. It’s all infomercials, bad 90’s shows or soft-core porn. I pull myself to the fridge where I find a lonely beer in the back, waiting for me to drinking. I hear it calling my name as I reach all the way back and pulling it out. I crack it open and take a long swig of the cold drink. I stand out on my small, sort-of balcony, looking up at the sky. It was extremely clear out, not a cloud in the sky. I can make out some stars, but nothing like it is back home. I look up, trying to find the big dipper but get distracted when I see a shooting star. I feel like I’m five years old again when I close my eyes and make a wish. “I wish I had a rockstar life.”

Notes

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