My Hand Slipped

Take Me Home

Take me home today

Take me out to play

Take me back into that sweet, sweet melody

A smile lit up my face as I heard my ring tone blasting through my phone. Groggily, I sat up like a drunk person, swaying left and right in my sleepy haze, attempting tho wipe the dried up saliva that had formed overnight on my chin. Everyone drools, don't even deny it. After opening my eyes I realized that I had to get rid of the sleep in my eyes too, oh the thing we girls go throu-

Take me home today

Take me-

Shit. I forgot about what I actually got up for. Reaching out for my phone that was sitting on my desk, patiently waiting to be re-united with my with my ear and the occasional earwax, I barely grazed my fingers on the corner of the desk before my body gave up on me with lack of breakfast and collapsed, limply back on my bed. Well, the bed gets what the bed wants. I relaxed back into my bed and snuggled into my stinky pillow, allowing my hair to fly around my face and decorate my pillow and not in a good way. My hair does not look all nice, shiny, smooth and all that crap in the morning like it does most girls. It looks like my head was involved in a project made by three year old's, evil three year old's that hate me. It's sad really. I knew that I had to get up before the ring tone started again so I rolled around from the corner of the bed that I was at before to the corner closest to the desk. This time I put all my energy into my right hand and reached out towards my phone, staring at it as if it was my life.

" I love you." I whispered, strongly to my phone in hopes that these strong words would help me somehow.

" Love you too sweetie!" Shouted dad from the kitchen I'm guessing.

" Shut up Dad, I wasn't speaking to you!" I yelled as loud as I could in hopes that he could hear me. How could he hear me anyway.

" How did you hear me anyway!" I decided to voice, yell my thoughts.

He hesitated. "...Get up, it's time for school!"

Way to change the subject Dad. And what's the special occasion anyway. He's actually speaking to me like we used to.

That thought brought a grin on my face which morphed into a scowl when I heard my ringtone blast for the third time that morning.

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"Fuck you!"

"I hate you!"

"Go die in a corner you prick!"

"Why do I even know you?"

Those were four of the many colourful phrases I used when I was in the bathroom, crying my eyes out in the corner, holding on to my glass bottle of foundation.

"You only have one job, one job to cover up my blemishes and make me look pretty! But instead, you have to fall on the floor and cut me! I thought I knew you?" I let a few more sobs escape whilst holding on to my finger tightly, allowing more blood to flow out of the ginormous cut that the broken foundation bottle caused me. I could've died!

I quickly stood up, stumbling on my own two feet as I was trying to get up, mumbling a few apologies to my now sore feet as I walked towards the green sink and allowed my finger to feel relieved as the cool water relaxed the thumping of my heart. I released a deep sigh in contempt. Suddenly, I remembered that I needed to get ready for school and that it was already...eight in the morning. Wait, eight in the morning!?