If there's anything I absolutely despise in this world, is getting interrupted while your sleeping. Dragging that mental state from peace back to a riot and possibly losing a once in a lifetime dream experience. It's absolutely the worst. The power of this rivals among the true soul killers such as stubbing your toe on the edge of something or dipping a fresh pair of socks into cold water.
Well, that small paragraph briefly sums up the shit that happens in my life on a daily basis.
I wasn't even angry. I'm too tired to be. The sun hasn't risen up from the horizon to welcome the world yet. A brawl between the repetitive ringing of an alarm clock versus a sleep deprived teenager's hands ended. There were no winners. Only red hands and a pile of blood soaked tissues. The conveniently place glass front of the alarm clock shattered into dust striking the teenager's hands. Oh my, what unlucky fate. I wonder who that teenager was.
The window counter was painted in a dull white and I didn't want my mother fainting over the sight of blood. I've already used all the tissues in the room and the blood wasn't giving up yet. My heart rate was steadily increasing with less and less options being available. Then, right in the corner of my room, I spot something.
"You know what, fuck it. I like taking risks."
I dumped my hands into the used clothes bin. If there is one place my mom doesn't check everyday, it's inside the world of this container. Any bystander would have called an disinfection crew to handle this situation by now but considering the fact that my room looks like the offspring of a landfill, I really don't give a shit about hygiene and "protecting yourself from the invisible serial killer".
YOU ARE READING
Letter
Teen Fiction7th grader me was living a normal life in a remote town. It was as simple as it can get, following the same schedule, talking the same topics.
