Being Shot

P h o t o #3 - Monachopsis At Its Finest

P h o t o #3 - Monachopsis At Its Best

I woke up to the undeniably annoying buzzing of my alarm clock and the graceful familiarity of my head pounding to its beat.

My hand lazily smacked down onto the top of the alarm clock sitting atop my bedside table, immediately ceasing its tireless droning. I groaned audibly and rolled over, only to realize that I must've already been laying at the edge of my stuff bed and landing awkwardly on the shag carpeting below. Moments ticked by as I lay still, trying to process what just had just occurred as I squinted at the dust particles twirling under my bed.

My head hurt immensely, to say the least, so much so that I wasn't sure if I had the strength to even prop myself up correctly. Finally gaining enough courage to do so, I sat up as I cradled my skull. A sharp gasp fluttered from my throat as my hand came into contact with the ever present lump protruding from my scalp, one that I was at least a bit grateful for its absence of swelling that had since gone down during the night. Unfortunately that didn't keep the bruise from throbbing though, even if the size wasn't even near what it was before. I was definitely in need of an aspirin this fine morning.

Come to think of it, and for some odd reason, whether it be the blistering headache clouding my better judgement or the ice pack I was offered the night before, I didn't seem so angry at the time.

If you still believe that's still the case now , then you're sorely mistaken.

I was absolutely furious from the moment my eyes snapped open. Between waking up with an atrocious pulsing all over my unimpressive body and coming to the sudden realization that I would have no other choice but to trudge to school on my own with no bike to aid whatsoever in the trip, I was anything but a happy camper that breezy morning.

Once I finally pried open my heavy eyelids again, they locked on my silver laptop sitting upon my cluttered desk. I scrambled up and crawled over to it, grabbing my glasses where they sat next to where my alarm clock and completely leaving my concerns over the pain in my head behind in the process.

I pressed the power button without a minute to lose and looked around my room as I waited for the tiny green bulb next to my keyboard to light up, informing me of its starting up.

As I glanced around my room, I noticed I really needed to clean it. My shirts and pants were every where, my dresser top with all my grandmother's and mother's old jewelry that were handed down to me were scattered, my shelves of old dolls (that don't look too creepy, well at least to me...), nick-knacks, and trinkets all in a row were knocked down and fallen over, and my desk was full of sketches and pencil shavings. My dark blue and creme walls also needed another coat of paint, as some places were chipped and pealed.

If it wasn't clear enough, I was a bit of a collector of unwanted items. Something about an antiqued item found on the bottom of a shelf in a 99 cent store or a weathered toy abandoned in front of a local Goodwill held some sort of charm that I just couldn't ignore.

It was almost an escape for me, if such a hobby could do that. One I didn't plan on giving up anytime soon, even if my grandmother did enjoy giving me an earful over how unkempt my room often was.

I shook my head and turned back to my laptop screen that was now loading my desktop. After it loaded, I quickly opened Google Chrome and began typing like a mad man. I was always a fast typer. I quickly went to my blog page and checked the followers.

I nearly screamed with excitement when I saw the number.

'200,000 followers!' I threw my hands in the air and fell back onto the carpet with a thud.