I pressed down the 'O' key on the home laptop forcefully. The key had broken so to type the letter, even though we had bought a cover for the keyboard that was thick enough to hide it, I had to press hard on the button-like mechanism which always exists below the key. By the time I had managed to type in that one letter, my sudden burst of inspiration had already ended and I groaned to myself, leaning back in the stiff dining table chair that I was sitting in, because I didn't have a desk at the moment. Or well I did, but one of the legs broke so putting anything that weighed more than 10 pounds on it would probably break it.
"Mina, can you take out the trash?" My mom called from the kitchen. "It's full and both me and your dad are busy right now."
I sighed. "Okay, just one minute. Let me finish this sentence."
"Mina," my mom warned.
"I said I was going!" One look at my mom's face told me she was having none of it so I dragged myself out of my chair and tied up the trash bag before putting my shoes on. "Fine, I'll be back in like 5 minutes."
My mom just hummed in response and I let out a groan before opening the front door and lugging the trash bag behind me, barely keeping it off the granite once I climbed down two stairs and opened the door to the building. My arms ached by the time I threw the heavy bag in the dumpster. Either the bag was really heavy, or I was really weak. I speed-walked to the building and pressed the button to my apartment, waiting for my mom to buzz me in because, for some reason, she doesn't trust me with the house keys.
Like what am I going to do? Give them to a stranger or something for a pack of gum? I don't even like gum! (To be fair, I've never had gum, but that's beside the point)
When I finally entered my apartment again, I kicked off my sandals, carefully placed them on the shoe rack, and then sat back at the dining table, taking a split second to lean back in the chair.
"Mina," my mom yelled from the bedroom.
I took a deep breath. "What?"
"Nothing."
I just stared blankly at the closed bedroom door. I swear she did that at least 10 times a day. I turned my gaze to the laptop screen and let out a sigh. Since I couldn't figure out what to write next, I scrolled to the top of the document, and began reading through my earlier writing, cringing, and then editing about 99% of it, before realizing that instead of that plot line, I should've made the characters do this, and then started the 11th draft on the same story... Yes, I have problems.
By the time I finally managed to figure out how I wanted to start the new draft, it was already 5:00, which meant that unless I wanted to deal with explaining to my science teacher, I should probably get started on my science homework.
Slumping, I made my way to my room, grabbed the notebook and pencil case out of my bag, and came back to the dining room. Then I realized that I should also get some sticky notes to make it look better. After that, I forgot my school Chromebook, then my ruler, then my compass, and then I had to go to the bathroom. All in all, when I finally ran out of excuses to procrastinate, it was 5:30.
I flipped the notebook to the next blank page, trying to figure out how to start writing the study guide I should've started a month ago. Nah, it's fine. I'll just do it after dinner, I thought to myself.
Spoiler alert: I either will not, or I will stay up until 2 am to do just that.
Suddenly having found a newfound motivation when I should've been studying, I opened up my google drive, which was almost filled with storage thanks to my many uncompleted yet weirdly long stories, and clicked on the story where I didn't have much going on yet. It was supposed to be about these two alternative dimensions and a whole lot of complicated things in there, but for some reason, I just couldn't figure out how to start it, or rather I wouldn't start it because there was still something missing from the plot which I still couldn't quite identify.
I sighed and clicked on a different tab; the story which wasn't a story but just a word vomit document where I wrote random things to get my writing motivation fueled up.
A/N So if you guys saw the announcement on my message board, you know that I didn't have much time to write this chapter, mainly because I had procrastinated the whole week, just like Mina. That's why this chapter is so short, but this gives a very tiny peek into what Mina does outside of school.
YOU ARE READING
Nothing but Hurt
Ficção AdolescenteMina Mohan had never been someone that special. She was that girl, always forgotten, always slipping back into the shadows. She was content with her life, content with her books and writing. But every teenage girl has insecurities. She could never b...
