First thing I did when I woke up was look in the mirror like I always did. Every morning it's a routine for me, I wake up, look in the mirror, and no matter what I smile at myself while studying every curve, every wrinkle and every aged spot on my face that leads to the fact that I didn't get enough sleep. Why do I do this? Because every day I wake up hoping that "today will be the day that nothing will go wrong, today will be perfect.".
A lot of the time this leads to me asking myself what I could do today that'll change my sadness streak. Don't get me wrong, my life is practically perfect, I have nothing to complain about, but don't we all always want more? It's a bad habit of mine, and as much as I want to blame it on other reasons such as my genetic "depression" I know it's not that. I know how it feels to be depressed, but I also know what it feels like to be happy, and I like that feeling a lot more. See I don't believe in depression, and I believe that if you truly wanted to, you could be happy. A really good quote that my dad once told me was "we have the choice to be happy or not; we make our lives our own personal heaven, or our own personal hell".
This quote I've always held close to my heart, and I continue to every day. I believe in it, and I believe that I could make life a haven for my happiness in any situation I'm in. Most people can't understand this, and to try and disprove it they always like arguing that they've tried so much to be happy. This isn't true however, I've been depressed, and I know that when I WAS depressed, that I liked the feeling. I liked the feeling of being sad, of being lonely, and of being unhappy. The only reason I liked it though, was because that's all I knew at the time. It was my comfort zone, but only when I was able to escape that comfort zone, was I able to realize just how much I actually hated and just how much I liked being happy instead. Anyone who ever says that they don't like being happy, has never truly felt happiness.
After I was satisfied looking at my reflection in the mirror, I finished the routine by washing up, and getting dressed. I grabbed my bag, and then headed downstairs. I don't care for food, but I find myself always eating it. I'm not even hungry most of the time, but I eat anyways. For this reason I don't care too much what my breakfast is most days. I took my medicine, and then walked out the door immediately feeling a rush of cold air enwrapping itself around my warm body. I'm not one for the cold, but then again that's what I'm saying for the heat when it's 90 degrees out during the summer.
As I walked up to my bus stop, I looked around to see if anyone was there, but there wasn't. No matter how hard I try in the morning, I always still end up feeling subconscious about my hygiene such as my breath. Don't take me wrong, I'm very hygienic and it's very important to me, I take care of my hygiene, such as using deodorant and actually brush my teeth and gums so hard that they bleed most days. I could care less about how I look, but how I smell to others is what I worry about every day.
The girl that usually stands with me at the bus stop every day is named Sydney. As much as I love Sydney and her always upbeat positive self, I don't like standing with her in the mornings. It's usually cold enough that whenever one of us speaks, our breath is seen as a giant ball of air, and unlike her who doesn't mind seeing these flying breath balls, I mind seeing my own. Ironically, talking to people for me is hard because of this sub consciousness I have usually until the end of the school day, when I actually have the least amount of social time available.
As soon as the bus came I hopped up into it again feeling the warmness of the bus heater. I said good morning to my bus driver and sat down in my usual seat alone as ususal, but just as I like it. My bus driver in the morning is different than my driver in the afternoon, but I like my morning one better. I don't even know her name, but I do know that she deals with depression, and that she just wants to make as many people as happy as possible. She's a very sweet lady, and she's a role model to me.
My bus takes an extra-long route because it picks up people for two separate high schools, so I'm on the bus every morning for about an hour. I always listen to music during this time, and tend to do things such as unfinished homework here on the bus.
As the bus gets to school I wait to be last person to get off so that I don't bother anyone trying to get out. I wish my bus driver a wonderful day and get off to be greeted by my friend Mikael. Mikael's mind is a bit strange, but mine is too. Mikael is one of those people that you look at and your first thought is that she does drugs. But she doesn't, and she's amazing. She's one of the few people that I call friend at my school. Most people here at my school are nice, but (in my mind at least) only a few people here while distinctly distinguishing between acquaintance and friend, can call me their friend. It's not because of them or me as individuals, but rather as a whole relationship between us.
