Opening my eyes I saw the same blue ceiling I've always woken up to, along with the same annoying alarm clock. Following my usual routine, I shut it off, got up, took a shower, and got dressed. That's it, the same every morning. I rode the same bus, sat with the same people, had the same boring conversations. My life was stuck on repeat. Over and over and over again I went through the same thing. Get up, go to school, do homework, go to bed and then do it all over again. If you think about it, its kind of depressing. I usually woke up tired and angry at the world because school required that I get up every morning at 6:00am to make sure I could make it out to the bus at precisely 6:15am. Same old same old. But that morning I was wide awake, and happy. But I wasn't complaining, not one bit. It was nice to wake up happy for a change.
"Aizzzzzzziiiiieeeeeeee!" I heard my mothers cheery voice call down the hallway. I opened my door with a smile on my face and she kind of stopped and stared at me for a little bit before nodding at me and turning back around and heading to her room. I shut the door slowly the thought of Am I really that unhappy every morning? So unhappy it actually confused her? passed through my mind. Shaking off her reaction I waded through the mess that is my bedroom to look for clothes suitable for that days mood. I just so happened to find my favorite blue skirt and a cute pink top. Usually I didn't like wearing skirts or anything cute, I was a tomboy kind of girl. But today I was in a good mood.
Sliding into the skirt I realized I had grown, it was now up to about mid thigh instead of knee length. Well, I guess the guys at school would have something to look at after all today. I knew I was semi pretty, but I didn't really like playing off of it, most girls who play off their beauty end up as either bitches or sluts and I was quite happy being plane old book worm me. So I stuck to jeans and tee shirts most of the time. But today I was going to wear a short skirt and a tight pink shirt...One that basically showed everything that only people who had seen me in a swim suit had seen. My friends would have a fit of joy, and all my guy friends were going to die... Today was going to be interesting for sure.
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I checked the clock one last time as the bus came rolling up to my house, the same time as usual. I flicked a strand of black hair out of my face. Shrugging on my backpack I fought off the wave of butterfly's that attacked my stomach as I walked towards the yellow contraption filled with over confident judging teenagers.
The doors hissed open and the driver actually did a double take. I smiled at him and walked down the row towards my seat, trying (and failing) to ignore the whispering that followed me and the looks of the people ahead of me. With a sigh I flopped into my seat, backpack still attached to me. I sunk down as far as I could into the stiff blue leather seat, and once again failed. Everyone was staring at me and I felt the hysteria climb its way up my throat. A grin spread across my face and I couldn't keep from giggling. I was the most self conscious person in the world and having everyone staring at me was not helping at all. Taking a deep breath I wiggled out of my backpack and another hysterical laugh to look for a book.
Settling back into the seat with book in hand, I opened it to the dog eared page and began to read. I quickly forgot about being stared at, I got lost in the book as the rivers of words flowed through me. I was quickly pulled into the mystery that is a book, as I read I wondered how someone could ever hate reading, did they not feel the magical pull as I did? Did the book not suck them into a safe haven where the only thing you have to worry about is one of the characters? It confused me. But then once more my thoughts were erased from my mind as the words moved on the pages and told a story all their own. They spoke to me, the words. They told me secrets and truths. They whispered in my ears the lies of the world. They fed me ideas and dreams. They made me think. To any average person, Im crazy and quiet and serious. But the books understood me, they knew what I wanted. They knew just when to make my heart race, and when to make me cry. There were always new surprises, no matter how often I reread it. I could read a passage 20 times and still think something different. I can read a book a million times and still cry at the same parts. Books were my best friends, nobody could replace them. If I cried at night and they heard, they didn't run off and tell. If I whispered a secret to them, they didn't share it. They listened to every thought and crazy idea, they always suggested things in their own way as well. I didn't have to hide from them, I could be myself. Books weren't just words on a page that described someone else's life, they described me to. Each book held a part of me, each had something in it that made me think about my life and the way I lived. Nobody could take that away from me.
YOU ARE READING
Colourization
Science FictionAize Jayce Lynn is a normal child. Her black hair is long and straight, just like everyone else. Her eyes are as black as coal, just like everyone else. She goes to school, follows the rules, eats the same food. She's like everyone else, atleast she...
