an annoying pattern of metal vibrating against wood causes my eyes to flutter open. a small groan escaped from between my lips as i sat up slowly, my covers sliding off of my body as i stand up. my fingers brush through my messy, fading strands of hair as i pick up my phone with my free hand, turning off the alarm. i bring my phone to the dresser, setting it in the dock, opening pandora and drags my feet as i walk into the bathroom. my hands wrap around the handles on the shower wall, turning on the hot water and a little of cold water. the steam rises in room as my fingers grip the hem of my shirt, sliding it off of my body and onto the floor. my hands slide my sweats and my boxers down at the same time. i step into the warm shower, careful not to slip, grabbing my bottle of axe body wash. i open it and squirt into my hand, closing the bottle before setting it down, rubbing it against my pale skin.
my heart raced as i realized that in just 3 hours, i was going to be sitting in the airport, waiting for them to say my plane number, saying that i'll be on a plane to america. with him. him. with his perfect quiffed, blond hair. with his little black metal ring, going through his pink lip. his fake, shy, punk rock personality, that masks his sometimes sad, but most of the time giggly personality. guilt raised to my heart as i remembered that my heart was already restricted by another blond haired boy.
i stood under the water so the soap can wash off of my body. i then stepped back and grabbed my shampoo, squirting some into my hand, rubbing into my other hand before scrubbing it into my hair and scalp. after a few seconds of scrubbing, i stand under the faucet, getting an idea in my head before grabbing my conditioner. As soon as I'm done conditioning my hair, I turn off the water and step out onto a cushion-y carpet and grabs a towel, rubbing it against my wet body.
my eyes went over to the mirror and i glanced over myself, starting at my faded hair, to my pierced eyebrow, over my face, down my chest and stares at the scars at the edges of my hips, on my wrists and on my thighs, letting out a gentle sigh as i wrap my towel around my waist. i walk into my room, digging through my closet, grabbing a bag that has a small box which holds one of the two ways i get rid of guilt and dis-pleasure. hair dye.
