What if?
It's the forbidden question, and the one that is constantly on my mind. Forbidden because of the images it creates. Vivid, beautiful pictures of what could have been, but it also causes unbearable pain. So much pain, and the terrible knowledge that all my beautiful what ifs could have happened. But they didn't, and as much as I want to blame everybody else, I know that it's truly my fault that I didn't get a happy ending.
But the question still stings my brain over and over again. What if the world was the way it's supposed to be, with no real monsters, the one from myths and stories told around a glowing fire, spitting red and gold sparks into the air? I would still have my Sam. Not Emily's Sam but the one that would hold me during the cold nights, the one that wouldn't dream of trying to change me, the one who loved me. The one that was mine, all mine.
What if perfection had been good enough? I would still have a home and people who love me, care about me. I would still be the Beautiful Leah, not the Bitter Leah. I would still be the girl every guy wanted to kiss, and every girl wanted to be.
Those are the two most prominent questions that burn like fire, charring away my hope and happiness. There is one other though, one that I never let myself think, yet I know it's there. It's the most dangerous, I believe. It brings such a glorious illustration to mind, one that would kill me to see. One that would undo years of trying to put myself back together.
What if I wasn't so afraid?