Hey...it's me, your friend at least I think so but to say I view you as a friend? Is an overstatement.
--
"Sup girlie!! Mind if I use your lip balm, I know you wouldn't complain", before I could respond my friend takes the lip balm from my purse and smears it all over her lips... disgusting...Great, now I've got to chop that part off.
"You know you could've waited before I answered", I sighed in exasperation.
"It's not like you wouldn't have given me", she giggled. Iwouldn't have given you,but I say otherwise, "You're right I wouldn't have minded, let's head to English class we don't want to be late". I took her by the arm linking it with mine then we were walking down the hallway, me paying attention to the tiniest details out of place in the students passing by when suddenly I hear a shout next to me,
"Oh yeah!" I flinch slightly at the intrusion of my thoughts
"What is it now Shelly?" My eyebrows furrowed slightly in frustration as I let out a prolonged sigh
"That reminds me, I've got a lot of undone assignments...you wouldn't mind if I borrowed your assignments right? I'm pretty sure you've done yours, you always do yours".
"Umm yeah, sure", I respond absentmindedly though a bit annoyed about the fact that she always copies mine. We get to class with my friend Shelly...no...acquaintance.
The ninety-minute torture session begins...insufferable
"Hey Amara! How was your weekend?", my friend Joy asked
"It was okay", I replied a bit joyful though tinged with boredom
I do not believe in friends, I believe in acquaintances or simply minions because I was once one...Mmm those bitter days. I view the world in tiny little details...I'm not dumb nor am I a genius. I'm smart in books, yes—but I prefer the term 'emotions'. You got that right...I'm a manipulator...but well...let's leave that for another story to tell later
--
"Why can't you do something right, you useless child? Don't be lazy!"
Smack! Smack!
My cheeks sting. Tears don't come. Haven't for a long time...lucky me.
Gasp! I jolt awake. My room.
"Goodness me", I mutter under my breath
Too fresh. Always too fresh. No matter how much I bury it. "Hehe", I laugh slips out-a sharp, bitter self-depriciative laugh. JUST LIKE ME.
I press the heel of my palm against my eyes, as if that could rub the memory away, then swing my legs off the bed. Cold floorboards bit at my feet, dragging me fully into the present. I look around my room. Mine. All mine. Forget about those f**king dreams.
I make my way to the kitchen only to be greeted by a messy counter and a sink full from yesterday's dishes. Crap. I head for the fruit basket. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. I grab the knife to slice and—
"Sh*t", the blade slips... nicking my finger. A bead of red swells fast. Great. I pop my finger in my mouth instantly greeted by the metallic taste of blood. Not the breakfast I had in mind. I rinse my hand under the tap, wincing when the water stings the cut. Perfect. Just perfect. I wrap a paper towel around it, holding it tight like some kind of battlefield wound. All this… for an apple.
My stomach growls, but the sink full of dishes stares me down. I sigh. No way I'm touching that before school. I toss the half-sliced apple back in the basket, shove the knife away, and settle for a granola bar from the cupboard. Breakfast of champions.
I lean against the counter, chewing half-heartedly. The kitchen light flickers above me, buzzing like it's mocking me. Figures. Even the lightbulbs are against me today.
By the time I grab my bag and shoes, I already feel behind. I lock the door, glance back at the cluttered little apartment, and mutter under my breath, "Today is NOT my day".