Once Upon A Slap

(10) She's a rocket

I yawned loudly and turned over to my side. I hugged my fluffy and fat pillow tightly and snuggled up into a ball. After an entire five minutes wasted on contemplating whether or not to sleep in, I decided that I really should get up and go for a small jog. That way, I'll have my daily dose of exercise and be more awake.

The rest of the week had flown by, much to my happiness. No, Cameron didn't return any undeserving insults to me and I hadn't initiated any well deserved revenge on him. This week, in short, was moreover peaceful.

Cameron, being the badass he likes to be, skipped every one of his classes with me in it. Even Kyle and Jason had been avoiding me.

How rude.

A small, microscopic part of me wished that Cameron and I could start over and maybe even become friends. This microscopic part of me is the cliché girl that wants nothing more than somebody to be dependant on.

I yawned and started wiggling in bed, as I couldn't find any spot that was comfortable enough for me to sleep on. I raised my hand and itched my hair. Even the mere thought of getting out of bed and going for a jog irritated me. I loved jogging in the morning. Although, the part where I have to move my body this early in the morning irks me. Don't question it.

I pulled my legs up as close to me as I could for warmth and I closed my eyes once more, hoping to fall back asleep. Obviously, my brain had other means for me. I turned over onto my other side, hoping for an area where the sheets weren't totally tangled and crumpled. I groaned as the sun's radiant rays of sunlight shined down upon me through my rather big windows.

I hid under my covers in hopes of making the sunlight go away, so I could sleep in peace. It's safe to say that idea didn't go by spectacularly. Why couldn't I be a normal person and actually like it when there's a bit of light while I sleep? Why do I have to sleep in the dark? Maybe it's because that's how I've spent the entirety of my life; in the dark.

I let out a small cry of frustration. I willed myself to finally sit upright in bed. I leaned against my mahogany bed board. I forced my eyes to stay open while I surveyed my messy room. I always do this every morning. I look around, in sheer hope. I hope for my parents to be in my bedroom, surprising me with an appearance. I know, it's stupid. It's a habit I can't seem to shake.

I had always been the type of person who depends on their parents for support all the time. When that support slipped out from under me, I fell. Hard. I stopped caring for my health; I went out into frosty nights without a coat and just a thin hoodie, if even that.

My whole world had stopped functioning.

It was always hard for me to see all of my classmates being picked up by parents when they exchanged goodbyes, quickly gave kisses on foreheads all the while the teenager whined.

Even when parents were yelling at their children, I broke in ways not known to be possible. It broke me, because I knew I could never have any of that. I knew my parents couldn't give enough of a shit about me to actually yell at me, or care for what I do. Those parents had yelled at their children because they cared; that's a gesture that my parents would never do. Knowing that broke my heart.

Little by little, bit by bit, I had started deteriorating. I became less social and more silent. I had always been a leader, not a follower. All of that changed after my parents picked up and left me at the young age of 9.

Those people I call my parents couldn't have even waited for me to be legal before leaving me. After a while, with the strong support of my best friends, I had arose once again, better than ever.