I'm stuck in this damn rut of a life.
Every day is the same damn thing.
What I would give to change that... But what other people would do to change it back...
As soon as I wake up in the morning, I make sure to blog to my readers about my waking up. (it's a much bigger production than it sounds). Today my nurse barged in on me in the middle of my blogging (not sure why I'm so surprised about that) and I nearly slammed my hand in my laptop. My right hand is always slower than the rest of my body for some reason. (I was told that was because my arm was broken as an infant) My nurse knows that I blog but I'd rather keep it between Lynn and I. It's a twin thing. Either way at one pint or another, she'll have to fork over all of her information that she's gathered from me and my sister to the king and queen. I sigh. Privacy means nothing when it comes to us...
My nurse looks more haphazardous than usual. Her uniform is tied wrong in the back and loose strands of her hair stick out in all directions. (She usually has a perfect ability to keep herself, along with me, kempt, so this came a quite a shock to me)
"My princess! My princess!! Ash, you absolutely must get dressed, breakfast tea starts early today and you must be there! Big news, love!!" She nearly stumbles and yells as she runs around my room. From my walk-in closet, to the foot of my canopy bed and back again; dresses and petticoats flying. Her salt and pepper hair flying behind her in a long braid. This woman was closer to me than my own mother, to be truly honest. She accepts me for who I am and who I want to be. A Journalist. And not a princess.
I stumble to my feet as stable as I can, and shuffle to where she was standing. "Nurse, Nurse..." I say calmly, resting my hands on her shoulders; an action that was meant to calm her. It didnt.
"N-no, Princess! You must get ready for your breakfast tea, strict orders from your father. You must go now!" she stared blankly into the distance. Whatever father had told her must have really shaken her up. Bad.
I winced as I realized what I had to do. Ive seen Lynn's old nurse and what had had to be done to get her back to normal. "C'mon, Nurse, look at me!" I plead at a half hearted attempt to not have to use force. But since there was no way around it, I recoiled my hand and whipped it forward, smashing my nurse in the face.
She predictably replied with a shriek that matched her yelling earlier so nobody should be alarmed around the house that happened to be walking by. She stared at me with a bewildered expression; her palm to her cheek. "Ashley! Wh... why?" she trailed off as soon as she began.
"Easy, you went crazy." I replied to her endless, silent babble.
"So you flog me in the face?!" she asks incredulously.
I sigh. "You werent answering me when I tried to talk to you, you were just yelling non-senseical whatevers; and staring at nothing. And I didnt flog you, that wouldve hurt much worse."
She always loved when I used my own type of non-English. She half-smiled in clarity. "I understand... almost like Marie?"
"Just like Marie, almost worse."
We both laugh together as I give her the glass of water on my side table to relax herself. She sits on the edge of my bed and I plop onto my back and my down covers hide me and Im suddenly comfortable.
"Can't I stay in bed for a while longer?" I whine sheepishly. I knew the answer already but I couldn't help but ask again. One day she'll say yes, and I'll shove my sucess in everybody's faces. I've been praying for that day to come since I found out about me and my sister's daily schedule. "Please my nurse? I have work to do." For someone so plump, she can really run... I think to myself and grin as I pull the covers off of me and sit up, still quite sleepy.
"Dear child, you know I would let you have all the time in the world if I had the choice, but that's not my decision, now is it, Ashley?" She says as she downs her water, refills it with the pitcher also on my side table, finishes her running around my room and settles infront of me to fix my bed-head. She always plays this card with me. The pity card. The fake pain in her voice and the faux tears are almost laughable.
I sigh. "No." I shine her a sympathetic smile (almost as fake as her tears and eyebrows) as she helps me into my morning attire. And that consists of my almost neon yellow springtime sundress, dress coat and matching flats. Clothes were never my friend. I take a quick glance in the mirror to collect myself. That quick glance turned into a calculating stare.
Same messy black hair with semi-natural blonde highlights.
Check.
Same gray-brown eyes.
Check.
Same dark skin that contrasts terribly with this yellow sundress that mother just had to buy for me, and with matching flats.
Check.
I still look exactly like Lynn, I'm still a princess, I'm still stuck in this damn box.
Check, check, and check.
