Imaginary [H.S]

1

The crispy wind blew through the fluttering curtains of Kimberly's room. She's a seventeen year old teenage girl with beautiful brown hair and blue eyes that made her stand out of crowd, even more than she already did. Boys at school would drop dead for her but her calm, demure mannerisms gracefully denied all their advances and proposals.

She wasn't the kind to talk unnecessarily and instead she would just smile. Her grades were fantastic and had perfect attendance. She was the living embodiment of the perfect student. One might assume she was unapproachable but she was quite the opposite in fact.

Every one or two weeks she would volunteer at the elderly home or pet shelter. Everybody simply loved her. Although, of course, there were the girls at school that loathed her, mostly due to the fact that she was the whole 'package' as some boys would say. Charismatic, intelligent, beautiful, talented, determined and down-to-earth.

At this point in time she was single. She found no use in being distracted by silly boys and investing so much time into a relationship. All her friends were in relationships and would often talk about how amazing it is. Of course every girl dreams of her knight in shining armor but in this case, hers wasn't in her school, or town, or life for that matter.

So instead she would write. Write about her perfect man. The man that would care for her unconditionally and show her undesirable love and affection. All this was in her leather bound journal that she bought for herself for ten dollars from a shop down the street from her house.

Endless pages filled with her handwriting and fantasies. None of her friends knew about this journal as she thought it was embarrassing. She would stay up day dreaming and fantasizing countless scenarios in which her and her mystery man would fall in love and be together.

Of course, she imagined all his features, completely made up from nothing but her imagination. From the color of his lips to the texture of his hair, his personality and body features. He was a complete fantasy.

This often depressed her, knowing the one person she actually loved was completely fictional and non existent. Every day she would look forward to going home to write more about her fictional man. She wasn't exactly desperate, just hopeful you could say. Writing made her happy, she was so good at it that it felt almost realistic.

It wasn't a story she was writing but rather a description. An endless description of a man that she loved. She wasn't an erotic writer, didn't have sexual fantasies in her journal but just wrote sweet things. And that was what she was doing right now, writing.

AN:
So this is the first chapter of my book. It's more of an introduction to the story and I hope you like like. I actually have a legit plan for how this story is going to fan out :))
Ily💕