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Average

I'm so lucky. I'm so freaking lucky, to have the perfect freaking stereotypical life and being good at stuff and being pretty and popular and having a perfect house and family. I guess it's just not enough for me. Not like I'm a spoiled brat and want more but like I want less. It's so extremely difficult to explain, but I need something imperfect. Not some huge disaster, but something small or something that can give me something to say when my friends tell me I'm perfect and don't need to worry about any problems. I wake up and brush my teeth, throw on my good jeans and loose Pink™ shirt. I pull my straight hair back into a bun and slip on my new shiny bangles and sapphire ring. "Bye mom!" I say as I grab a bagel and head out to my 7:30 bus. Walking into school I see Becca jog towards me in her French connection platform heels. "ASHLYN, WE HAVE MID TERMS TODAY AND I TOTALLY FORGOT ". "Chill out Becca, I can hook you up with my flash cards during study hall. It's right before mid terms". "Let me guess; you didn't forget and studied like the entire week because your life is perfect and nothing goes wrong". "Haha, very funny; lets go so I can grab my sketchbook before home room". We go to our regular classes and do our average boring things for what seems like hours until mid terms. We're sitting at our desks in agony as all of us receive our test grades. Mrs Goodman strolls up to Becca. "YEAH! I got a B-". "Nice Becca", I say (because she's failed the past three exams). It's really boring when a get an A because it's so expected. She slaps the paper onto my desk. "C+" I mumble under my breath... I've never gotten below an A. This might sound completely bizarre, but a sense of exhilaration cane upon me. Finally. Something that didn't go right. What's next?...