Okay, so here's another one-shot I decided to write. I know you guys are shy with comments and all, but I'd really like to know if you enjoy my imagines (some titles are My Paper Moon Love, or Six Feet Under The Stars with Jack Barakat, or Finally He's got The Guts), please tell me if you like my writing, because I'm considering doing this for a living, so it'd be quite important to know if my writing sucks ass or not :p
OTHER THAN THAT, please go and follow my personal Twitter, which is @EarthTo_Chrissy as I'm not far away from 1k and I'd love to have even more awesome people on my timeline, so please go follow me, okay? :)
That is all. I hope you enjoy this and maybe it helps you a bit if you're at this point of your life :)
~Chrissy
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If there’s one thing that scares me, it’s the future. Or rather, may I correct myself, it scares the living shit out of me. But being weeks away from graduation, I have to think about the future.
It could be so easy. If grades didn’t matter and academic achievements were put after personal qualities, I wouldn’t have a problem. I could get a job at a newspaper or a magazine, or even write my own books. Screenplays. Anything creative that I could pour my heart into.
I wouldn’t consider myself an unhappy person, but I’m far from happy. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have the amazing boyfriend that I have, but people don’t see what being separated from him does to me. It’s not like he’s never around – but believe me, having a rock star boyfriend isn’t as cool as it sounds. And the distance between us – again, believe me, I know what I’m talking about – is anything but romantic. And when we do have time together, I have loads of work to do for school, and with my applications to several universities, and my mom’s always putting pressure on me because of it. I know she only wants be to do good, but it’s frustrating. I need my time for other things. And if I want to kill aliens on Halo on my Xbox with my boyfriend, I will kill aliens on Halo on my Xbox with my boyfriend. At least that was my state of mind until last week, when it occurred to me that I have six weeks to revise for my final exams. And yet, as I’m sat in front of my history textbook, I feel myself getting drowsy. I haven’t slept well for days and spent the daytime studying pretty much non-stop.
The sound of the doorbell ringing jerks me up again. My legs feel like lead though, and I struggle to get up from my chair. In the meantime, I hear the door opening. Relieved that my mom is answering, I want to sit down, but I hear a deep voice. My door might be closed and very much far away from the door, but there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize this voice. I walk towards my door and open it a crack, peering through.
“Please,” even though I can’t see who’s speaking, there’s no mistaking him. “I haven’t heard from her since Sunday and I’m a bit worried. I just want to check if she’s okay, please.”
“She’s fine,” my mom answers sharply. “She’s just very busy with her revision.”
“But that’s what I’m worried about. I don’t want her to be pressured so much, I know it’s getting to her.”
I feel my heart swell slightly and decide to open my door to get a better look at the scene.
“I think I, living with her, would know best, wouldn’t I,” my mom replies coldly.
This is the point where I don’t understand my mom. She knows I’ve been crying because I was so scared of my calculus teacher and about failing my exam, she knows exactly that I’ve been walking around like a zombie lately because I don’t sleep well, but still she manages to tell everyone that I’m just fine. But I don’t argue, because it would be pointless. On the other hand, I’ve had enough.
