Sing []Ryden Daughter[]

Three

I stretch as I wake up, before letting my arm lose strength and slam down onto my alarm, silencing it as it bleeps. I sit up and look at the time. 6:45. Ugh, how I hate school, especially when you have to get an early bus. Something scratches the back of my lower throat, and I cough. But I don't panic, because if it were a swelling, I wouldn't be able to breath before I switched on my tank. It's simply just the tube getting itself back into a comfortable position after I toss and turn in my sleep. Which I also take as a friendly reminder to take my morningly medication.

After swinging my legs out bed with my feet landing in my slippers, I stand up and go downstairs. I don't pick up my tank bag like usual, but instead just let it bounce about behind me. I'm in a "I seriously cannot be bothered" mood. I walk into the kitchen and get a glass of water, then progressing to the downstairs bathroom where I rummage around in the top draw for a box of pink and white pills and my inhaler. I unclip the plastic box, take out two pills and swallow them down with a glug of water. I then press down on the inhaler and breath in the white gas that prevents an infection.

I go back into the kitchen and get out my cereal. The smell of cake still lingers, and I sniff the remains before picking up the box of Reese's and making myself a bowl. I eat while checking up on Instagram, Snapchat, and then the perilous Tumblr. I scroll though the homepage and I land on a post from Ryan. It's just a simple photo of Urielectic, with the studio and all of the jazzy buttons and equipment that I can never be bothered to learn how to control. The caption simply reads New merch coming soon!. I don't get what the recording studio has to do with merchandise, but I just go along with it and like it anyway. I spoon the last of my cereal into my mouth as Brendon comed down the stairs in the middle of yawning. I instinctively ask him, "What does the studio-", but I get cut off as he answeres me before I finish. "Don't ask me," He says, yawning once again, " It was Ryans idea."

I get up out of my seat and plonk my bowl by the pile of washing up that was left from last night, then stretching my arms while I climb up the stairs to my room. I open up my wardrobe and plonk myself on my bed. I stare at my available choices of clothing, mostly either black and purple, or pastel blue. I spot a purple T-shirt that says in black Fight Like a Girl and a pair of black jeans with small tears in. It'll have to do, I think. So I change out of my grey nightie and into the clothes I've chosen. Afterwards I go into my bathroom, brush my hair and my teeth, put on a bit of concealer and mascara. I then come back out into by bedroom and reach into the draw beside my school work desk and ruffle for my pencil case and the rest of the useless tools that I need for school. "Hurry up! You're going to miss the bus!" I hear Brendon yell from downstairs. "I'm coming, OK!" I yell back. I struggle to hold everything in one arm but I manage (even though I drop my pencil case at the bottom step). Then shoving everything in my rucksack, I shout into the kitchen "I'm off to the bus stop!" Brendon comes out and plants a kiss on my forehead then saying while I open the door, "Love ya, have a good day at school." I step out through the door and say "Love you too." It's not until I'm halfway down the front garden before Brendon yells at me, "First album!". I grunt and turn around before closing the door then pondering to my bus stop.

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The bus is more bouncy today, causing me to quickly reach for my tank before it topples over for the fourth time this journey. I huff, and continue scrolling through my playlist of mostly Pink Floyd. I jolt as the bus reaches another stop, I look up and realise it's the last one before the short and smooth cruise to school. A girl with a black, messy, kind of long bob and and a Pink Floyd tee (she obviously has a good music taste) and chunky black headphones notices the empty seat beside me and begins to walk over. Ugh, human interaction. She sits down with a smile, takes one side of her headphones off of her ear nearest to me and says, "Liking your T-shirt." I look up awkwardly, look down at my t-shirt and say "Thanks," I look over to hers, and I continue, "I like yours too." She smiles at me. I recognise that smile and her eye colour, but I can't put my finger on it.