Plexiglass (On Hold)

VIII - Vent

I'm losing my edge.

I can feel it.

It's slowly slipping away kind of like a dream does as you begin to return to the world of the conscious.

I spent my weekend curled up in a ball on my canopy bed.

The only time I got up was to go to the bathroom, but the temptation to just keep a bucket beside my bed was real.

Aunt Sandra, without asking any questions, would drop off breakfast, lunch, and dinner to my bedroom door since I refused to go anywhere beyond the third floor.

My mom called a couple of times. She sent a few texts.

Jackson blew up my phone so much you would've thought the zombie apocalypse was underway.

The Twins sent me one text each, which, in the grand scheme of things, basically just begged me not to murder them socially or physically.

There's no need for The Twins to worry. I have no energy to kill them off.

And this is why I say that I'm losing my edge.

I'm supposed to be like a wild animal on the weekends and now I'm like a snail baking in the sun.

Somebody tell me what's wrong with me.

Maybe I'm coming down with the swine flu.

Or maybe I have food poisoning (That salad I ate on Friday did taste funny).

Whatever it is, it has to be pushed aside now 'cause guess what day it is? And no, not Hump Day.

It's Monday and my aunt is forcing me to go take a shower and get dressed and go to school.

I'm not very happy with her at the moment.

I wanted at least one more day to recover from whatever sickness I had acquired before facing the revolting new "it" couple.

I put on one of the new outfits that Aunt Sandra had bought me on Saturday just to make her happy.

I would've been perfectly content just wearing a pair of sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt but she had a heart attack when she saw me wearing, and I quote, "a homeless person's clothes."

I arrived at the school sometime towards the end of first period. I was going as slowly as possible at home in the hopes that my aunt would just get fed up with me and leave.

Instead she waited patiently - an attribute I didn't think she had - in the kitchen and drove me to the high school.

The attendance office gave me a late pass to my history class, but of course I had to stop by my locker first.

The second that my locker door flew open a pile of papers poured out like water onto the floor.

I picked up one and had to calm myself down because I was about to rip it apart with my teeth.

Quinn, no doubt, had stuffed what looked like 50 different pictures of her and Jamie kissing into my locker.

This was so unnecessary and so immature that I don't even know what to do, say, or think about this.

Instead of throwing the waste of trees into the trash can, I took all of pages and threw them in front of and behind me so that they filled the senior locker bank.

If Quinn wants me to see her being lovey dovey with her boyfriend, I'm sure she won't mind everyone else seeing it too.