Chapter 7 Chapter 6: Winter

For a moment, I thought of the life I longed for, the future I had written on my college applications. That girl symbolized everything I wished for—hope, happiness, a chance to dance in the sunlight instead of hiding in the corners of my dull life. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was the new me, the free spirit I wanted to wake up.

When morning arrived, I found myself staring at the ceiling once again, a renewed sense of determination taking hold of my thoughts. The dream lingered at the edges of my mind, its essence pulsing with promise as I considered the opportunity ahead. I set my sights on winning—gaining acceptance into that college, escaping this cold town that seemed indifferent to me, and building a future where I could shed this old skin of doubt and resentment.

Yet the strange juxtaposition persisted. My parents, despite their well-meaning support, left little notes scattered around the house, each one edged with a sense of urgency, as if they sensed my inner turmoil even when I couldn't bring myself to share it. "We believe in you, sweetheart," read one note taped to the fridge. "Dinner is ready at 7—don't forget!" prompted another above the dining table, an invitation to an awkward family conversation I had come to dread.

But they didn't understand that I felt caught between wanting their support and needing them to provide a closer, more intimate connection—something that would wrap me in comfort rather than well-meaning distance. I thought maybe if they were more like those families in movies—the ones where parents fuss over their kids with endless affection—I wouldn't spiral into thoughts where nothing mattered.

When the time finally arrived for me to get through the day, I prepared myself with renewed fervor. The sun hung high in the sky, bathing everything in a blinding white light as if trying to cleanse my restless thoughts. The local swimming pool was my escape, a place where I could float and drift away from the noise of unwanted obligations. And of course, there was Paul, who approached me like a buzzing fly that refused to leave.

"Hey, Winter! Were you up all night staring at the ceiling, or are you finally trying to summon your inner mermaid?" he mocked, a lazy smirk on his face.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let my imagination wander. What would it look like for Paul to stumble and fall? I pictured the pool deck, its slick tiles shiny under the afternoon sun, and imagined him slipping—a comedic ballet of arms flailing in the air—before he plunged into the water. Wouldn't it be just perfect?

To my utter disbelief, as if my subconscious had summoned his misfortune directly, Paul lost his footing with an exaggerated yelp and slid clumsily down the tiles. The laughter erupted around me like a wave, a magnificent symphony that made his mishap the highlight of the day.

"Did you see that?" someone called out, clutching their sides as they pointed. I could hardly contain my shock. Was this some bizarre magic? A witch-like power I didn't know I had. My cheeks flushed with a mix of shock and amusement as I joined in the laughter, grinning at Paul, who, despite his clumsy entry into the pool, turned it into a joke of starfish gymnastics, arms and legs akimbo.

As I watched him strut around, his confidence hiding his embarrassment, I couldn't help but wonder if I had finally taken some control of my story, even if just for a moment. Here I was, surrounded by laughter and light, with that dream of the girl and her guiding words echoing in my mind.

I could begin rewriting my story by gathering my strength and weaving the threads of what I desired with the colors of what I might become. The heaviness of inadequacy that clung to me felt a little lighter after that, an invitation to reshape not just my dreams but the chaos of my days.