Waking up in the morning is the hardest thing I have to do each day. It’s
not that my life’s bad or anything; I’ve got two wonderful parents who love me,
a little gnome for a brother who pisses the heck out of me every day (I still
love him, though. Just don’t tell him I said that – it’ll ruin my image), a
best-friend that never fails to crack me up, and another best friend who gets
me. I’m a straight A student, my classmates are all Legendary, most of my
teachers treat us like “one of the guys”. So I can’t really complain.
But after spending the entire night reading away about faraway countries,
or amazing worlds, and people who are just like me but find themselves special,
I find it hard to get up to reality. I bet you know how that feels. We all get
like that. I just wish I’d feel like that less.
Sometimes I wonder if I should just go and try to go cold turkey on book.
Just stop reading them all together; they’re too appealing, making the real
world so much duller. So much… less.
That’s the difference between the real world and the one in books, I guess.
You’ll never find a book and a story where nothing happens, because that’s
boring. Books don’t do boring. Real life, though? Boring in abundance.
I open my eyes, take a deep breath, and close the alarm o’clock. It’s been
ringing on and off for the last half an hour. I’m not late or anything, though.
I put my alarm an hour before I actually need to get up, as I know it’ll take
me at least half that time to wake up properly and be able to get out of bed. Also,
I hate to be late. Which kind of comes against my wish to just stay in bed for
the rest of my life. But there you have it; humans are complicated.
Not that you didn’t know that already.
Whoever “you” are.
I stretch, glancing at the mirror. I regret it almost instantly. My belly
looks at least twice as large as it did yesterday. Is it possible to gain 5
pounds in a day? After all I ate yesterday—and Ice-cream and a chocolate
cake on top of everything else—it won’t surprise me. God. I look horrible.
I open the door to my room, just cause it covers the mirror without it. I
don’t want to see how I look.
I take a deep breath and walk to make me some coffee. That’ll make me feel
better. I hope.
My mom’s already awake. She’s a nurse, which means she works terrible
hours. Which also means her biological clock is all messed up; she’s awake when
it’s time to sleep and vice-versa.
“’Morning,” I half yawn half saw. She looks up from her coffee mug, smiles
at me and returns the greeting. Then she looks me once over and say; “you look
great this morning.”
I don’t bother replying. I never do anymore.
Two minutes later I’m back in my room with a cup of hot coffee. I take a
sip without checking to see if it’s hot, and it burns my tongue. I don’t
complain, though. Secretly I wonder if it’ll make me eat less today.
Which to I kick myself mentally. I’m beginning to act like I have
food-disorders. I rub my temples from the headache accumulating there. Not the
best topics to pounder on so early in the morning.
I flip open my Facebook page. I don’t have many friends there, mostly
because I only approve people I actually know, and by know I mean know
their first and last names, connect them to their faces and have carried at
least five proper conversations with.
If it was up to me, I won’t be in Facebook at all. Of course, it’s not. My
class has opened a Facebook page, and all the class materials including
messages from the teachers and announcements go through there. I don’t mind
much anymore, because my best friend has started being on Facebook due to this
class. She writes the funniest status ever.
Such as this one;
She: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
He: What’s wrong?
She: You can’t believe what just happened!
He: What?
She: My jeans don’t fit me anymore!!
He: Oh, you really did gain a bit weight, didn’t—
She: Oh, wait, that’s my little sister’s---wait, what did you just say?
He: I love you, marry me.
Or;
Love is like a Lake. Starts with an ‘L’.
Awesome or not?
Anyway, there’s nothing new there. No messages canceling classes (shame),
no awesome statuses (damn), no messages for me (not that I was expecting). So I
move on to my mail, where I notices some updates from my favorite blogs, see
one response on a blog post I made (little happy dance to that), see that reply
is just someone telling me to follow him back (slump in my chair), follow back
(cause I ain’t no unappreciative asshole), go to Goodreads. See if anyone says
something important. No one does. One person did start one of my favorite
books, so I tell him I hope he enjoys it and to tell me what he thinks of it.
And here ends my routine, and there is absolutely nothing to do. I spin in
my computer chair, thinking.
If I start another book, I’ll never find the will to start dressing, so
that’s out.
Another spin.
Okay, you know what? I’ll just dress. I’ll be ready a bit early. Then I’ll
leave to the train early. Then I’ll have to wait more for the train. Which in
response will give me more time to read while waiting for the train.
Awesomesauce.
It takes me ten minutes to dress, five more to put my backpack and laptop
in order. Then I finish my coffee, brush my teeth, and put on some makeup. I
still get out of the house ten minutes before I should.
Waiting on the train station for my friends is something I don’t overly enjoy,
even if I do have an awesome book to read. I hate sitting in places with many
people—and at almost 8 a.m. there are a lot of people milling about—and
don’t ask me to explain why. You’ll just find me paranoid. Which I’m probably
am, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right… or something like that.
Yuki makes her appearance ten minutes before the train is scheduled, and by
now I’m on chapter 4. The book’s just starting to pick up.
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Half an hour?” I shrug.
“Why?”
“Left early.”
“Why?”
“There was nothing to do?”
“Then go to sleep!”
“Can’t, was already awake. By the way, I think our bookstores are going to
hell?”
“Why?” just like her, to never miss a bit despite the abrupt topic change.
“Well, I’ve been in the store yesterday, and I bought this Edger Ellen Poe
collection. It’s this most pretty thing ever—looks like a collectible, hard
cover and everything. Anyway, I’m sitting there checking other books of the
same edition cause there’s a sale and you know I can’t miss that, when the
saleswoman comes up to me and tells me they also have 50-Shades-of-Gray.
“Now, it’s not that’s I’ve anything against erotica, you know I read some
of those,” she makes a face, because she really hate those kind of stuff. For
an 18 years old, she’s way behind in that department. “But aside of disliking
that specific one, I’m standing there with Edger Ellen Poe in one hand and
Alice in Wonderland in the other, and she’s offering me freaking
50-Shades-of-Gray. Something is wrong here.”
She looks horrified. She opens her mind to say something—I don’t know if
it’s on the fact I have an opinion on Fifty Shades of Grey (which by the
way I have not read. The writing was too horrible for me to pass the first
page) or on the fact the saleswoman actually did that, when our best friend,
Nathan, comes by us.
“Hey Lil, Amanda,” he greets. By Lil he means me – Lily. And Amanda’s Yuki.
She just never lets me call her that.
“Good morning,” I tell him.
“Shouldn’t we get going?” he asks. I look up and see we’ve got one minute
to board the train. I nearly jump out of my skin and hurry the hell up.
School’s… school. Nothing changes on this front. ‘Course, nothing ever
does. You’ve got a schedule, you’ve got the same teachers and the same
classmates. And as ours a “special school” – which to say I’ll get out of it
with a form of degree connected to film-making, my major – no chance of
mysterious hotties moving in the middle of the year. Do you see why I rather
live with my books? So much more interesting.
I could care less who discovered the photoelectric effect, but my teacher
seems to think it’s important. I tried to concentrate. We’ve covered this
material already, but after a test where everyone but two people (one of them
is me) failed, he’s revisiting it.
I tone him out, scanning the class. Those who should really be
listening are busy on their laptops. Figures.
I open my and write a review for the book I read last night. It was a good
book, though I found the romance developed a bit too fast for my tastes. I was
thinking of trying to sneak in some book-pages on my computer application of my
E-book when the teacher announce all those who passed a certain score (Me), are
excused of the class until he finishes teaching some subjects again. Which
would be in two weeks.
Why did I bother coming to school, again?
