𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗩𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗢 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗨𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗗

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❛ DIANA SPELLMAN PRESENTS: A MORNING IN MY LIFE. ❜

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All her days were based on the same boring, disorganized routine, over and over again.

Diana was already a disastrous girl. She couldn't help it. Her nights were her moments of relaxation, where she spent hours writing in her worn notebooks or talking on the phone with her group of friends in whispers so that her parents wouldn't wake up. So, like any teenager, the morning alarm did nothing more than take away the little time her schedule had to sleep. A thunderous noise that filled her room, always on time.

That morning, however, it seemed like that noise was even louder. Diana stretched out her arm abruptly as soon as she was aware that she was awake and, without meaning to, she dropped the device to the floor. It was the middle of May, a few weeks before her graduation, and she still hadn't learned how to turn off that old alarm clock without it ending up on the floor. A heavy sleeper girl, as many would say, she had to learn to tolerate the tinkling of a clock because any song she played on her cellphone went unnoticed by her ears. All she got was an angry brother coming into her room yelling at her to turn it off. But they couldn't say that she hadn't tried to console herself with the mornings. She followed every piece of advice she was given: adjusting her schedule, going to sleep as early as possible (once she even went to sleep at dusk!), even exercising at night with the sole purpose of falling into bed exhausted before midnight; but every time the old music player turned on at 5:50 a.m., the brunette just wanted to die.

Diana opened her eyes, frowning long enough until her vision adjusted to the poor light coming through the windows. She had left the curtains open the night before and noticed the sky was exaggeratedly blue; At that time it was almost dawn. She snorted. Her first thought of the day was the worst that could exist: it was a stormy Friday. She wanted to roll over, hide her head under the covers and sleep for at least a few more hours, but the mere idea of her mother coming through the door to protest gave her enough strength to stand up. She looked around, saw the mess in her room, and decided that maybe the best thing he could do to start the morning was a cold shower, and so she did. Luckily, the tiny bathroom there still had fresh towels.

Despite her mess, Diana always tried in vain to maintain order within those four walls. A year ago, when she was studying at her old high school and had a couple more hours of sleep (and, consequently, a better mood), her room was a different world. But since she was transfered, her space paid the price. The baskets of clean clothes had been next to the empty drawers for at least a week; Her desk, which was not exactly small, was full of half-finished notes and annotations; Her bed was never made. There was only one tiny corner in perfect condition... the rest was embarrassing to just look at. "You're lucky mom and dad don't come into your room," Elliot would say when he came to help him with her homework, "otherwise you'd be in serious trouble."

Even when she bathed in ice water, Diana spent more than fifteen minutes humming the latest songs that took over her head. A quarter of an hour that, no matter how much her skin shivered with the contact of the low temperatures, they were able to make her forget for a moment that she had to wear an uncomfortable uniform, a dull gray backpack that the institute didn't allow her to change and go to see teachers that, even though they had known her for a year, they still hadn't learned her name. They always called her Jeanette, and every time she corrected them by claiming that it was the middle name on her ID, they ended up saying that "a name is a name" and moved on to another matter.

Maybe adults and their need to always be right was something that was never going to change, she thought, as she dressed as appropriately as possible. The gray pleated skirt of her outfit was on the floor all night, and the wrinkles had dismantled her lines a little. Her shirt was not in better condition and... Where was the tie? Ugh. She could already smell the director's attention call once again. At other times she gave another importance to her image, she would even have put a little makeup on her face to highlight her features. But now, stuck with a dress code that didn't even let her wear her hair down... that desire completely disappeared. In less than twenty minutes since she opened her eyes that morning, she was already standing, observing her body, analyzing it without much care. Soon, each and every one of her insecurities surfaced, from why her shoulders looked so broad in those clothes to why her skin looked duller in the maroon and blue of her uniform, when those colors were generally supposed to be It used to look good on her She let out a sigh and left her room, there were thoughts that were better left on hold.