Take Me With You

Chapter 2

I woke up hearing thunder erupt over the top of my small apartment bedroom. The sound shook my bed and table in my cluttered room, and some papers fell of my desk.

Another crack of lightening. Some more papers fallen.

This repeated itself for the next 20 minutes until I finally had to drag myself out of bed. My whole history class was practically spread out on my floor.

I sat up, and shook my hair out of my face. The bun I had sat on top of my head, was now sunk to the bottom behind my right ear, were loose hair was hanging.

My feet hit my floor with a thud, and I lazily walked over to my desk.

My assumption was correct, and all my late night homework, was spread across my carpet covered floor.

Picking up my papers, I could hear the rain falling gently outside my window and creating a small stream on the road outside.

The noisy cars usually keep me awake, but I quite enjoy when it rains. Without snow, of course.

I placed my books back onto my desk, and sat down on my bed. Looking out the window once again, I can see all the separate raindrops fall and race down the glass.

My blankets consumed me, in a large bundle of comfort. Two pillows were behind my back as I just stared at the rain. Peacefully.

My eyes began to close again, but were quick to shoot open when I heard a loud knocking on my door.

"Lee! Wake up! Are you awake?"

My dad. I sat still, just relaxing, waiting to see what might happen.

"Eliza come on! We have to get groceries!"

Still I stayed quiet. I was in no mood to deal with fighting with my father right now.

"I'm leaving in ten."

There. Thats it. This is normal for me though. He also knows that in ten minutes, I'll be ready.

I think its just reassurance. But hey, If he has to yell at me, so be it.

I hopped out my bed, my blankets making a large pile behind my spot, and my bed spring screeching.

Pieces of my thin hair stuck to my lips, and my tank top turned almost to the side on my tired body.

I'm not a morning person. My hair was still slightly wet from my shower the night before.

I don't hate Thursday's, I just dislike them. A lot.

I think everything in this world just has a strong hatred for me. Like my grandma for example.

She thinks theres a certain demure, or shyness and reserve-ness about myself, and she wants me to be more of an, extrovert.

My grandma was born with an outstanding amount of ebullience about her that naturally makes her more sociable. Until my grandpa divorced her when I was 8.

At the time, I didn't really understand what love was. I still don't really.

Never been in one single relationship.

But what I do know is that kind of love, wasn't meant to be left to die.

Thats not her fault she doesn't like his shitty attitude.

She is just a little, different when it comes to opinions.

After the long morning thought train was over, I had enough vigour to life myself off my bed, and attempt to brush my hair.