Sinner and Saint

(1) Monday

Monday.

Even the word itself sounds boring.

I sigh as I try to hit the snooze button one last time and at least get a few more minutes of peaceful slumber.

I used to be more than excited for the first day of school, jumping up and ready to go early, but the past couple of years, I haven't been quite that excited about anything.

Begrudgingly though, I do get out of bed and try to be as enthused as any high school senior would be to take on the year; rule the school, go to prom, and graduate. As I look at myself in the mirror, I see how much I fail at that completely.

My light brown eyes seem dull compared to how much fire they used to hold in my younger years when I was lively and full of energy, but that part of me died a while ago and has yet to be resurrected. It's good that no one notices this in me- everyone thinks I'm fine, which is better. The less they know, the less questions I get. The less I have to see pity in their eyes.

In all honesty, I just wanted to get through this last year unseen, and be able to get far, far away to college next fall.

After literally dragging my feet over to my hamper that held my clean clothes I refuse to fold, I throw on some light wash skinny jeans, a stripped sweater, and my go-to white low top converse sneakers. At this point, a person that cared, or better yet knew how to, would probably straighten the mess of curls that brush against my waist. But I personally rather a little more time in bed, so instead I just throw my dark, unruly curls up into its usual messy bun.

Fancy, right?

I know I look pretty plain, but I'm fine with that, I'm not trying to impress anyone. Today, I just want to blend in.

Grabbing my book bag off the ground- where it has been since the last day of school- I make my way downstairs.

Instinct makes me open my mouth to greet my mother, but I stop when I see the empty, quiet kitchen. I smile sadly, leaning on the railing as I remember back to a time when the kitchen used to be filled with noise and movement; dad making coffee, sizzles of mom's bacon on the stove. Now it's silent.

I grab an apple off the counter and head out the door, keeping my head low as to not see the frames on the wall.

Today I'll put my smile on and push the thoughts that creep into my mind deep down where even I begin to believe that everything is fine.

Today I'll try and show my friends I'm still the same person. That I'm still fun.

That I am not sad.

It shouldn't be that hard, I do it every other day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Remember to vote if you liked it and comment, it makes our day.

See you next chapter, Dolls!