Writing Prompts

Little Bailey

Prompt: "What have I become?"

Bailey, a senior, is facing many life problems. She is constantly stressed and sad, has lost friends and a lover. She is always late for school or not going all together. Her eyes become opened to her behaviors after her childhood friend stands up for herself.

Words: 2294
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     I have had the worst day of my life. It started small, bunches of little things that just got to me. Waking up late, my little sister busting in to tell me that mom is mad at me, so much so to the point she can't be bothered to tell me I'm running late herself.

     "Oh my god, what?!" I exclaim sitting up with anxiety

     I turn to face my sister. Her eyes have sympathy, she doesn't like when mom or dad are mad at her and so mom being upset with me made her feel bad for me.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sure you'll make it and everything will be okay! Maybe when you get home we can do arts and crafts together like we used to? It made you happy." She said smiling her crooked smile

     "Just get out! I need to get dressed!"

     She smile fell, her eyes no longer having that light she always seems to carry no matter what. She turns to the door and walks out closing it, then I hear her footsteps running down the hall.

     I rushed to put on a graphic T-shirt and pants. I ran to the bathroom, I looked like a troll. Attempting to look presentable I brushed my fingers through my hair, it was just not cooperating. Grabbing my bag I shoved my papers and books in it, running out the door and my jean's belt loop got caught on the handle. I ran to the kitchen to grab an apple so I can eat at least something this morning, I caught a glimpse of my sister sadly doodling. Running down the stairs I missed a step causing me to bruise my butt. I swiftly got up despite the pain and quickly grabbed my jacket and shoes. Annoyingly, my shoes take too long for me to put on. My jacket stinks so I opt it out for a hoodie hanging on the coat rack.
     I run to my car, forgetting I left my keys inside the house. I am such a klutz. I ran back inside, grabbed my keys I left on my bedroom nightstand, run out the door making sure I locked it, and getting in the car, driving away. Heading towards my high school, about to take a bite of my apple to only realize it looked like it was starting to go bad. The sight of it was enough to make me toss it in my backseat, guess I'll go without breakfast today.
     Arriving to school, running into the front doors, I apologize to the front office profusely and check in. The counselor was there talking to the receptionist and when realizing I am just now getting to school an hour late he decided to lecture me.

     "Bailey, this is your senior year and you can't even bother to make it? I know senior year is always a bit stressful, but I can tell lately your performance has been faltering. Where is that excitement and motivation from the years prior?"

     "I don't know" I say back feeling melancholy
"My life has just been full of more downs than ups this year."

     "Bailey, I'm a counselor for a reason. If you need anyone to talk to so you can get somethings off your chest, I am here. Now hurry to class, don't let me keep you."

     "Thank you Mr.García."

     As angry as I was, I could never yell at Mr.García or the office ladies. They were always so nice to me throughout the years, and Mr.García is like a father figure to me. My actual dad could never bother to be nearly as nice as him.

     At this point, all i want to do is cry. Today may have been my worst day in weeks but this year in general has been the worst. My dad and my mom have been arguing more, my little sister won't stop bothering me, my first love and I recently split and it's supposedly all my fault. My dad treats me like crap, always yelling at me for not working hard enough and for showing emotions. Senior year has been majorly stressful, I've always wanted a scholarship in human services but with how things are going I don't know if that's something I could accomplish. I feel like my dreams are shattering before my eyes, nothing seems to go right. Mr.García was right, my performance is faltering. Not only have I been late quite a bit this year but I've also stayed home many times, begging my mom or faking sick. Now my father fully expects me to get a job on top of it all. I would likely collapse from pure exhaustion, not just physical but mental, school already feels like too much to handle.