Fiddle the Farer of fantasies

Chapter 1

The sun poured through the strawberry patterned curtains lighting up the room with hues of yellow and shimmering gold, and the birds cried their welcome to the day- yeah no.

Instead the sun never came out nor did the birds chirp and I had yet to see even a glimpse of the new day since I was one, hiding under my tattered purple sheets, two keeping my eyes closed to block out that fiery yellow ball that sits up in the sky from seven to nine, and thirdly because I plain and simply refused to roll over like a dog, slip on my monkey slippers and prepare myself for another day of high school.

High school.

The very hell of my existence.

Don't get me wrong, after three long months of summer I am filled with ideas and expectations for the new school year and am actually excited to see old friends and fellow classmates; however- oh there it is again that inevitable and knowing word- I only enjoy school the first few days and then like the majority of the students, am over it.

So as I ponder wether to act sick or to go trough the hastle of getting ready and actually go to school I am friendly reminded by my calendar, that's carefully tacked on the wall next to my bundle of a mess of clothes, that today is infact four days from semester one finals and if I want to receive a worthy grade- or a passing one at that- I should most likely, probably, and positively go to school.

I therefore crawl out of my cave to put in more pleasant terms and make a beeline for my bathroom or should I more specifically say my shared bathroom. Sadly I'm the only one up at this ungodly hour since the rest of my family have school and work at understandable hours so as usual I untangle my hair which resembles quite closely to something of a birds nest, scrub my teeth as if I haven't brushed them since the day I was born which sadly is probably what they- or my mouth rather- would have smelled like if not for the lovely invention of mint toothpaste. Then I casually dab on a little makeup here and there, which is a completely accurate statement because I like to wear as little as possible since I'd rather look fresh and clean then well a fruitful and "colorful" cake, or cupcake or even cookie if that's what one prefers.

I throw on some jeans, a shirt. And some flats and then I'm headed out the door, which I almost get to until I remember I should probably satisfy my dull hunger with at least something considered food or that my stomach will at least digest; which turns out to be a granola bar.

Oh granola bar how I love you deeply. My love for thee is a passion of over a thousand suns- or something like that.

And finally I'm actually on my way to school since I thankfully have a car of my own, bless my parents, those horrid and odly odered days are finally over and done with and the only time I associate with anything bus related is when I think and pity the poor freshman whom are forced to share most likely an hour of their day on that rolling log of dirt, fights, and weird or even occult bus driver (not all are terrible I'm just always reminded of my bus driver from freshman and part of sophomore year, Mrs. Kudar, my last day one her fish and vinegar arommed bus was probably one of the happiest days of my life).

***

School was school.
Boring.
Cliche.
Soul depriving etc.

And when I pulled up to my drive-way after driving through my neighborhood filled with replicated and identical cookie cutter houses, I just sat in my fine leather drivers seat and stared off into space. I began to ponder my boring and completely and undeniably average life.

Or is it really average?

Do average people spend their weekends reading book after book?

Do average people just watch the clock and count down the hours, minutes even, until they can go home and eat whatever their heart desires?

Do they watch the same movies and T.V. Series over... And over... And over again?

Do they have two perfectly normal parents? Siblings? Cousins?

Maybe I'm not even living an average life since most "average" teenagers at least had interesting family backgrounds, stories, attended parties; have had at least one drink in their life without adult supervision, were good at something or at least had a passion for something... And I don't think one can be particularly announced approbational or talented for reading novels and short stories. Which in my particular case is the only hobby I enjoy thoroughly and am most competent doing.

"Ugh" I spat at out as I slump my head against the steering wheel and whale my limbs around.

I'm exhausted. Completely mentally drained.

Why am I even comparing my life to others? I could be doing and should be doing something more productive than swallowing myself in self pity, and so I do.

I dash out the lock whilst tapping the lock button on my keys until I hear a faint beep indicating my doors to my car are successfully locked and then jingle the house key into the warm out lock on the front door. I greet my astoundingly fat and lazy cat Willow with a quick run of my fingers through her thick yet silky hair and make my way towards the kitchen.

Cookies are thrust upon my vision as they so innocently yet blazonly sit utop the third shelf in the refrigerator and so like and starving growing girl I reach for them.

***

Five monsterous yet devilishly scrumptious cookies later I'm sat on my bed covered in an old duvet, reading.

For a change.

Just kidding.

The book currently pirched in my lap is one of my favorites so far since it's a classic cliché. Bad boy meets good girl two fall in love and the rest is history. Stories such as these give me hope that one day I too can experience something other than my dull and uneventful life since I like to picture myself as a respectable member of society AKA a "good girl".

I sat their quite comfortably if I may add for roughly three hours whilst completely devouring the story held in my hands until I decided it was time to prepare for bed since I usually just cook dinner for myself and then cooch up in my bed and cocoon myself in the sheets until I fall asleep.

So I did just that.

I tugged on some comfy polkadoted shorts as well as a knitted sweater and then slipped on a pair of my old and faded white footies- that I'm pretty sure I've had since middle school-.

***

Dinner was tasteless, boing, and uneventful as always considering it was just boxed macaroni however I'm not one to be able to fall asleep without having a full tummy so I'll try not to complain too much.

Food is food.

My last pit stop for the day involved the restroom and the removal of my minimal amount of makeup that had already seemed to have faded away through the course of the day. Then I was off to my final destination...

My happy hollow. My cave. My bed.

I continue the same book from before and read it for eons until I finally was cast under sleeps deep and peaceful spell.

----
Short I know but it's just a tid bit of her daily life and what she's used to.