'All the realities were once fantasies.'

My mum once told me and back then I didn't take it as seriously as right now.

Her sentence flipped around my head as my car headed on the curvy roads lined with tall cypress trees. The cold breeze of the winter evening suffused with the brewing smell of cornfields passed through my locks, brought me the air of realization of things, places, and events where I had been wrong.

We all prefer living in fantasies, cherishing the world we can't live in, or we don't live in. Waste our days imagining things we can’t afford and neglect the stuff we possess. Yet, forgetting realities are fantasies once. The things happening with us maybe it had been the picturesque someone we might not know had imagined.

The lifestyle we are enjoying, there might be someone who lived all his life yearning, struggling to attain it, whereas we were taking it as much so lightly.

I was on my way to Toronto, Canada where my elder brother resided alone.

I was left with no other option; home was obviously also not among the options I had.

So, a day before, I sifted my cellphone out of my pocket and called Carl and told him that I am moving to Toronto too as I got a new job there.

"Wait- what did you just say?" An occupied voice came from the other side of the phone. Probably, he was busy working at the family firm we had in there, but I could figure out the amazement his voice reflected.

He was shocked when I told him that I wanted to teach and got a job in an elementary school.

No one ever had done a job in our family; we were the business tycoon, and all my cousins and relatives were into business fields.

I didn't give him the time to argue with me and cut the call right after saying that I'd be staying at his apartment for some days until I moved into my own apartment.

He was ok with me staying with him. He couldn't have any issues as I'm his sister and he loved me the most.

~I don't need Nobody to love~

The song played on my car's tape and my mind flipped back to the days when I just wanted to be loved.

I used to fantasize about love when I was in my teenage, those long hot summer days when kids of my age used to sleep and play in the streets, I used to spend hours wandering about the guy I would fall in love with, about my first kiss and sex as I read many books on romance.

Romance used to be my favorite genre.

It still was or maybe not.

Through the period I had experienced many phases of love, relationships

immature and mature

that contributed a fair role in changing my likes and dislikes and my personality as a whole.

My Mum had been very concerned about my relationships and didn't want me to experience heartbreaks and any such results that occur as the consequences of those immature decisions we made as teenagers.

However, I didn't use to listen to her advice, they sound boring to me as I loved adventure and wanted to enjoy my life, I wanted to fly.

Not like airplanes but birds, free to choose the direction they want to go in, I didn't want myself to be controlled by anyone, not even by my parents.

Sounds bad.

It didn't to me back then but now when I reflect back, I felt cursing myself for having such a stupid mindset.

But aren’t we all go through that stupid phase of our life?

When we made some decisions that later made no sense to us and put ourselves into trouble that we couldn't even imagine.

"You'll understand it one day." My Mom said to me the day I decided to leave my house as I wanted to be in a live-in relationship with my newly formed boyfriend.

"He will not be able to give you the luxuries you're accustomed to. He's skint. You'll regret it." My Dad said as he flipped a stare full of anguish at me.

"Whatever, I'll manage but I'm in no mood to change either my mind or decision."

I said as gripped at the handle of my trolley bag and twisted around to head out of my very own house which is no more mine. The walls lacerated with the tapestries that speak tales of my childhood, of the period of my life I had spent there. I didn’t care for it at all and slammed the door behind me as I headed towards the taxi awaiting me right in front of my house, and Dillon sitting in it waving its hand at me, putting on a sympathetic smile on his face telling me ‘you want adventure, come to me, I’ll make it disastrous one for you.’

I had the blindfold on my eyes as I opened the door and sit beside him.

Indeed, Dad was right, he's skint he did not have as much wealth as my dad had. Even his generations couldn't have that much wealth, my dad was the biggest businessman in the town and owned the most wealth in the town.

The palace he had built for us had all the luxuries one could even imagine for and growing up he never made me cry for a thing I wanted.

The mere thought of getting something ever crossed my mind and he used to bring that thing for me even before I asked for that.

I remember, once he heard me saying to Myria, our maid, that I wanted to have a small kitchen like the one we had for my doll and he literally imported one, luxurious play-house-kitchen for me and my doll.

Crazy. Yes, he was like that. Possessive, caring, and the best Dad one could ever wish for.

I was indeed born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and I had badly accustomed to relishing those luxuries which I decided to kick off one day just for the sake of a boy, knowingly he's just an ordinary waiter at the most expansive ice cream parlor of the town and couldn't even feed me food for three times.

I was mad, surely!