Jump, then Fall

Chapter 1

I was standing on my balcony, slowly watching the sun rise from the ground. It wasnt coming from the ground literally, of course. But it looked as if it was. I watched the colors change from dark blue to purple, to a soft pink, and so on. I was leaning on the railing, journal in hand. I had been out here all night, writing away, as usual. I think that sleep is a waste of time. Yes, I do have to sleep, and I do--maybe a couple hours every other day-- but we spend 33% of our lives sleeping. Thats 227,468 hours of wasted time that could've been spent seeing things, watching them, experiencing. So thats why I stand here on this balcony every morning and night, watching how everyday the rise and set of the sun  looks different.

I bend over and grab my polaroid, and carefully and meticulously snap a picture of the sunrise this morning. I pull the picture out of the bottom, gently waving it to develop. I stick it in my journal and look at my watch. My alarm should be going off in 3..2...

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP bzzz BEEEEEEP.."

 I sigh and pull open my french doors, and tap the snooze button on my alarm clock.

It was a monday. and no, I'm not to complain and weep about how exhausting and rough they are. Actually, I find them as terrible or good as any other day of my life.

I walk over to my closet, with my hands on my hips, wondering what I should wear. I reach in and pull out my favorite coral dress. It had lace on the neckline, and lace sleeves that went to my elbows. It was cinched at my waist, and cascaded to my knees. I bend down and grab my favorite navy blue wedges and slip them on. Stepping over a little bit, I looked at myself in the body mirror. I smoothed out the creases in my dress, and walked away satisfied. 

I cross my wooden floors and slide into my chair, in front of my vanity. I put on a little bit of blush to cover my dusting of  freckles on my cheeks and nose. I grab my mascara and put it on my long  lashes to darken them, and to emphasize my green eyes.  I swipe clear gloss on my lips and finish my makeup. I grab my comb and swiftly put up my smooth chocolate colored hair into a messy bun. I put a cream colored, lace bow at the top of the bun. 

Now finished, I stroll past my untouched bed, and grab my brown leather messenger bag from my computer desk. I sift through it to make sure I have everything, then sling it around my shoulder.

Sadly, I have to go downstairs now, and I want to avoid that at all costs. Thats why my alarm is on so early. To be able to leave for school before my family have already woken up. My mother and father caught on eventually, so now I have to deal with them. It's not that im antisocial or anything, though. My parents just tend to...hover. 

I mentally slap myself, and jog back over to my balcony, and grab my journal. I slip it into my bag and trek across my room, through the door and down the stairs. The wooden stairs creek as stride down them. I pass the second floor where everyone elses rooms were--my little twin sisters, and parents--and go on to the first floor where the living room, kitchen, and dining room were. My room was in the attic, but not the dusty kind. It was painted, and had gorgeous wooden floors, with a low ceiling where I taped all of the pictures I take, and some journal entries. 

Finally reaching the bottom of the steps I charge straight to the door, only to be stopped by my annoyingly perfect mother. 

"Mirabella, arent you forgeting something?"

I turn on my heels, and roll my eyes, "What?"

I see her dangling my keys on her index finger, swinging them around, and in the background my 7 year old sisters gigling while seeing how many pancakes they can shove in their mouths while my father hopelessly tries to stop them. 

I reach for them, but shes pulls back. "Eat breakfast with the family and you can have your keys"

I quickly snatch them from her grasp, watching her eyes glare at me.

She purses her lips,"You're an hour early for school, its only 7 'o' clock, where are you going, young lady?"

"Mother, im 17, I am not a child. I'm going to meet up with Lana at starbucks, as I do every morning." 

I turn away and saunter out the door, as my mother calls behind me, "Fine. But I expect you home for dinner!"

Both her and I knew that I wouldn't be home for dinner.