1992

two

or any day that is. before i know it my sister is opening the door yelling at me again,

"if you don't get up and get dressed, i swear dylan, i will drag you out myself."

my sister lets out an exhausted sigh herself, rolling her eyes before shutting the door on me yet again. dylan is my name but i wished i was named something else, something more interesting. something interesting like my sister name, which is diana. dylan is the name of someone who is too smart for their own good, which i am the exact opposite of. what was my parents even thinking when they named me? probably what they was gonna smoke afterwards. no thought went into my name. i wished i was named like dakota or something, now that's the name of a kid i'd be friends with. i don't have many friends anyways.

moving the trash on the floor to the side so i can make my way to the closet. where the clothes that are messily hanged are. what's the point in hanging clothes when you're just gonna take them off and wear them? i mean, the cycle just continues when you wash them and hang them again. i blindly pick out a white tank top and a faded out green flannel jacket, along with a pair of jeans that are at least a year old. worn out and dirty. it doesn't take me but two minutes to get dressed, i'm not like my sister who takes hours to even decide, what she's gonna wear. i don't understand her thought process, why does it even matter what you wear. it doesn't matter to me.

the light illuminating my room was enough light to dressed with, not having to turn on my light. my eyes are now adjusted to the light in my room. my body still asleep, and my mind just not wanting to do anything. i put on some army boots on that my grandfather left for my dad, but they ended up being given to me. putting pitch black socks on before roughly putting the boots on. boots were always harder to get on my feet for some reason. i don't bother putting deodorant on or brushing my hair. running my hand through my black greasy hair was good enough in my book. stepping away from my closet after getting dressed.

i made myself towards to door, opening it and walking out of my messy room. right after that i heard the main door shut, the door to the outside. it was probably my sister heading off to her job. which she spent usually around seven hours there, i would never tell her this but i wished that she stayed home more often. it's not like i'm at home all the time anyways, it just feels better when she's here. walking seven steps into the living room, the smell hit me. i'm use to it, but it gives me a headache every morning nonetheless.