𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘜𝘗.
"I really don't want to."
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
"Give me a break."
Light flooded the room with yellow and a soft glow of tired pink wallpaper grimaced back.
Everything felt uncomfortable but comfortable.
I've been here all my life, the messy scene every morning was a given for me.
Books and small gadgets littered my short wooden desk, along with sketches taped to the walls.
The sunshine had made it's way into every crevice of the room, signifying that the day has started. With a groan, a stretch, and a few half-hearted prayers, I finally left the bedsheets.
Gross. Everything was gross.
I rubbed my face, feeling the rough surface of my skin and the occasional bumps. I have so much oil on my face, America's going to raid my pores.
I kicked off my worn and torn slippers, the small bunny ears flopped uselessly to the side.
Their beady eyes stared back at me, although glistening, they looked dead.
A trot to the bathroom confirmed I was still me, the nasty hormonal mess of a human being.
I meticulously washed my face and applied makeup, a somewhat presentable but tired mask looked back at me. I smile.
It feels surreal.
I grab my phone and look down to see a simple message.
"Alright, have a good day."
It was a normal text, something I received everyday. It was special in one way.
It was from him.
YOU ARE READING
Sick Love
RomanceIt hurts to sit next to the person you love, knowing they can never be yours. All of my life, this was the same story over and over. Love. What is it? My name is Jen. All I want is love.
