Surviving You

Chapter 4

It's Raining Delinquents

My heart breaks. No, it shatters. I feel worse than when Mufasa died in The Lion King. But there is nothing I can do about it. It comes so often it's like a routine. This would have to be the most miserable moment in my life. And it's sad to say that you could get hurt this much and say 'I'm used to it'. But I have to suck it up, and put on a brave face because it's not like I have a shoulder to cry on. I've never had.

Right now, I want to disappear from life. To just be gone like nothing happened. I'm lost, sad and terribly lonely. It feels like my already broken heart has been ripped out of my chest, thrown on the ground, and stomped on repeatedly by sadness. Well at least I can say 'Thank God it's not Monday'. But I can't.

BECAUSE IT IS!

As you should probably know by now, me and Mondays do not get along what so ever. Monday is the time of the week where most people are awake at six am happy and singing along with the birds like Snow White. Me on the other hand, will wake up like Ana from Frozen but a thousand times worse.

By the way, what is with me and the Disney jokes lately? I should really let it go. Yeah that's right. Be jealous of my awesomeness.

I sit up in bed and fight the urge not to destroy my alarm clock, that has been killing my ear drums for the past minute. I knew I was awake, but I didn't want to be. I groan while reaching for the stop button on my phone to turn it off, and rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes. I began to shove the comfortable blankets off of my drowsy body, and waddle to the bathroom.

Everyday when I wake up for school I feel like I'm singing 'Baby it's Cold Outside', with me as Idina Mendel and Michael Bublé as my bed.

Me: I really can't stay.

My Bed: Baby it's cold outside.

Me: I've got to go away.

My Bed: Baby it's cold outside.

Me: This evening has been.

My Bed: Been hoping that you'd drop in.

Me: So very nice.

My Bed: I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice.

I walk into my bathroom, and lets just say that after I saw the monster that is my reflection, I wanted to bleach my eyeballs. For a second there I thought Albert Einstein broke into my bathroom and got trapped in my mirror.

I brush my teeth, then tie my hair into a messy bun, and stroll to my walk in closet.

I know I've probably mentioned this before, but if I haven't, my family is rich. Technically only me and my dad are rich but you get the point. You see, my dad is the owner and Creator of Millers Inc. It's multi billion dollar technology company, like Apple or Samsung. They produce phones tablets, music players, Smart TVs, laptops, camaras, and even their own line of headphones.

Anyways, my dad is like a famous billionaire so we have quite a good looking house.

I pick out my outfit for the day, which consist of a white crop top, faded ripped jeans, and ankle boots, and jog down the stairs for the breakfast I can already smell. You would think that for a billionaires daughter I would try to wear designer clothes so expensive my bank account would cry, but no. I don't. Only because I don't want every one knowing about it. I don't want everyone knowing that my dads a famous billionaire and owner of a company. They may have a different look on me. They may think I'm just a snotty rich daddy's girl. Or worse, they might try to ask for money. They always do.