Woke up with a heavy heart. Only three days for school to reopen. Reconsidered running-away options. Got mad because of lousy running-away options. Fought urge to throw things about.
Ran downstairs with droopy mouth and a long-suffering expression. Got told off by dad for looking like “I had two feet in the grave.” Scoffed breakfast down. Nipped out of the house to meet pals. Got made at their happy faces. Refused to look at the positive side of things.
Went back home after half an hour of being persuaded by friends to think about the silver lining. Munched lunch before mum could properly set the table. Retired to the room. Observed the floor with concentration like never before. Noticed a dent. Tried to fix it. Failed miserably. Cursed out loud. Prayed that the swear could be audible to parents.
Heard footsteps. Pretended to be asleep. Listened to door creak open. Felt mum’s smooth hand come in contact with mine. Saw mum go back out.
Stirred from fake-slumber. Plugged in earphones. Spent a glorious hour humming to Radio Head. Popped out earphones. Placed them in the drawer. Yawned. Made way to bathroom and splashed water on face to remove sleepiness.
Trudged downstairs once again. Crunched on Frosted Flakes. Ate dinner with the family.
Spent rest of the evening wondering why I wasted the whole day mourning for the holiday that has long since past us. -Well, not exactly passed us, but whatever- Showered and scrubbed teeth. Pulled on dotted PJ’s and closed eyes. Tried to sleep.
Woke up in fifteen minutes. Pulled out diary from the stack of books on the bedside table. And the rest is something you know all too well, DeDe, all too well.