You still can stop this before you get to far into this stupid story.
My day usually starts with something simple. A breakfast of bacon and toast. Then once I finish the meal I wait impatiently for my brother to get out of the shower. Once he's out I go to my closet and grab a pair of jeans that doesn't fit, a button up shirt, a plain t-shirt that I wear underneath my button up shirt, and underwear and socks. Then I begin my shower and then I brush my teeth. I then walk to my back pack which has a small blue bowl that holds my pencils, wallet, key, and notebook.
That small notebook held everything that was important. Memories, notes, and personal writings. Just about everything that is important to me is in that small black book, and if anyone ever got a hold of it... Well I'd be royally screwed.
Anyways once I got everything I needed, and if it was seven o'clock, I would head over to my friends house.
My friend is named Lex. Lex was a simple guy. He wanted to make music. To become like all the Rockstars. I hope that one day he would finally reaches those heights, but at the moment he was a hyper 16 year old kid. He was tall and skinny. His hair was short and scruffy and his eyes were a basic brown. His family was great too. He had two siblings one brother and one sister. They were very different from each other. His sister was smart, but not as happy as Lex. His brother was a quick thinking, but wasn't book smart. Lex was always thinking of new things to do and how to do them.
So as I was saying I would then go to Lex's house I would work on any homework I didn't complete the night before and then I once it was seven twenty we would head to school, and then the journey to school would begin.
It would start by putting in my headphones. Though I never truly played anything unless if I was having a bad day or worried. Now the car ride was five or so minutes so I had enough time to catch a quick nap. After the five or so minute drive we would pull into the parking lot and then enter the school through the first wing entry way.
Walking into the first wing you were greeted by two things. School and a bad mood. Whether it be the loud people in the hallways, the teachers, or the kids who think there the big shots so they can push people out of the way. It was all annoying, and brought my anger to a boil. Of course there were benefits to going to school.
First I get to get out of the house. Second I see my wonderful friends. The final thing was that I would have a chance to write.
I love writing, even though I'm told crap at it, it was my passion. Maybe even my career one day. I want to tell stories of people you could love, people you could feel for and understand.
But I don't really believe I can do it. I'm the worst at spelling. My grammar is utter garbage, and I'm so forgetful. Like this one time I finally got the perfect introduction to a story, and then it would disappear from my mind. A lot of memories are like that for me now.
They're all fading away.
