You weren't here, I really missed you, a short story by Anika Taiwade

 Song: "You weren't here, I really missed you"  by Anika Taiwade

The room is dim. The lights are flickering above me, when they suddenly go out. I’m left with the reflection of the northern lights on my white bed sheets. My speaker is shaking what feels like the whole room. I can hear the vibrations of my guitar coming from the strings standing so close to the speaker- it gets louder as the song picks up pace. I start to feel the bass in my heart. With my hand on my chest and my back now up against my headboard, I peek out the window. The city is in motion- glows of apartment buildings, retro ads of Teen Beach Movie echo, and I feel the cool breeze on my shoulder giving me goosebumps. 

I didn’t allow myself to listen to the population city beneath me in fear of hearing the life I could’ve lived. But maybe tonight, I’ll lower the volume of my music a bit, and let myself wonder. Just for a moment. Just for long enough to dream about being a part of something, even if it’s just me. Maybe if I had changed sooner, I would’ve been someone else. Maybe if I had tried harder, pushed past every fleeting thought of a different dream, I could’ve become the successful girl I was expected to be. But I feared that version of myself. And maybe that version of me only exists in a life I never chose to live.