Double Trouble Too // Neymar Jr //

-0.6- "The Hardest Thing."

"Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me."

-John 14:1

-0.6- "The Hardest Thing."

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Alana Andrade Amero

Sr. Lampello

Intermediate Writing

September 2016

The Hardest Thing

"The hardest thing I can honestly say is...this paper. I have no idea what to write about, or write something you haven't read a million times before. Honestly bro, I just want a good grade on this because I am stressing about it. Do you know how stressful this is--"

The cursor began to blink as I caught a painful case of writer's block. And if that weren't enough, being trapped in my new canary themed room was a bonus. With Neymar having a little get together in the sitting room. They were laughing and messing around. I heard Thiago, Marcelo, David Luiz, and Roberto's voices. Along with a female voice that I couldn't distinguish.

Nor did I care.

Although they were uknowingly detering my concetration on my paper. Attempting to drown out their obnoxiously loud voices did not help either. I grew impatient with my lack of process, backspacing everything up until the title. Because let's face it, my paper was trash just a paragraph in. My fingers continued to type, nonetheless.

"The hardest thing is being trapped in a hotel room while your ex has his friends over in the central room. They're laughing loudly and talking while I sit here, typing this. Do you realize that it's been thirty minutes and he has all his friends here? I would've loved to have Bàrbara over, or maybe Bia, or Andressinha (I mean, they are my best friends in the team). But nooooooo, he has to have his friends over. This guy has absolutely no respect for boundaries or even asking what's okay and what's not okay--"

The paper was not A1.

I kept drawing blanks, with no clue on what to possibly write about. Staring at the screen for minutes didn't help my writer's block, or my eyesight. Sr. Lampello expected a completed thesis to show how much progress we've made. And if that didn't help, my friend and classmate Gina already had pages upon pages of what the hardest thing is: her boy problems. I had plenty to come up with, but I couldn't even put it into words.

Giving up was not an option, but I'd chosen to close the lid to my white laptop, calling it a day. I fluffed the pillows behind me, making sure it was comfortable enough to lay down. Doing just that, I began to observe the good-sized room that I was to stay in. From the apricot colored walls, to it's warm design complete with a mahogany wardrobe and desk facing the two enormous windows overlooking a lovely sky. I do say that this was possibly nicer than my single. Not to mention the bed that was fluffed to optimum comfort. Minus the embroidered pillows at least. An extra bed lay idle in the corner of the room, but it didn't obstruct the beauty of the room. But I did find it's presence strange.

My hand passed over my face as I contemplated my assignment. I pulled out my phone, answering a few texts from Andrew and Dani. Mainly asking about my predicament with Neymar. They were the only two who knew, well, besides Rafinha who was probably enjoying his isolation. But answering them wasn't why I grabbed my phone.