Imperfectly Perfect

{1} Drama Queen

I unpacked the final box of books, meticulously arranging them in my bookshelf - genre-wise, then series-wise. By the time I was done, it was almost dinnertime.

I was famished.

The only thing that kept me going was the sight of filling of the big bookshelf which was my proudest possession. It seemed a worthwhile effort.

A part of my mind, undoubtedly the pessimist one, taunted, Why do you even bother? You'll probably have to move again after this semester!

Shut up, I snapped at it. Dad promised that he won't make us move again.

 If only it were that easy to tame the negative thoughts.

Yeah right, It drawled, like that has ever worked before.

We won't have to. We stayed in NYC for two years, didn't we? I retorted.

Only because Jake was with you.

He is now as well. Ha. I said triumphantly.

He'll be in college most of the time. This doesn't look good, Izzy. It cackled.

I groaned.

Lack of sleep, an empty stomach, and a had of relentless hard work obviously didn't go together. I skipped lunch since I was in the zone and I had the house to myself. 

Usually, I didn't miss meals. Actually, scratch that, I never missed meals if I could help it. Food is life, don't you agree?

Unpacking was never fun. Somehow, for the first time in a long time, I got through without once plotting a murder. No, wait, at one point I halfway did plan my last Biology teacher's demise . . . Hehe. See? Never fun.

I briefly wondered getting up from the bed I had so decidedly sprawled myself on but then scoffed at the idea. I was pretty sure my zen would be short-lived. Might as well make the most of it, eh?

I stretched, groaning unattractively, trying to reach my phone on my bedside table and almost dropping it in the process.

Did I have a mini heart attack? Yes. It was my lifeline, ya know?

Did I regret it? Nope. I didn't drop it and all's well that ends well, right? 

I increased the volume of the songs playing on the Bluetooth in my room, singing along loudly in my probably pig-like voice.

I've been hurt before, and that's why I close the door
Scared of the daaaaark 
And broken heeeaaarts
I can't let you in
'cause I'm crawling in my skin
Oh, I've been scaaaarred
 By broken heeeaaarts............

"Isabelle!" a gruff voice all but screamed. "Shut the bloody fuck up!"

That, ladies and gentlemen, is my oh so well mannered sibling, Jacob.

Obviously, I ignored him, refusing to let him dampen my spirits. I sang at the top of my lungs, knowingly annoying him.

What? Don't judge me! That's what we siblings do. It's our way of showing love. Can't say I really minded it. Not in the moment, at least.

My door burst open with a bang.

"Heyyyy big bro!!" I greeted him cheerfully. His blue eyes were glinting with a dangerous edge and his pink lips were pressed together in a thin line forcefully. His brownish golden hair was recklessly tousled and his hoodie was wrinkled with the day's wear.

Sometimes I almost pitied him, having to deal with me all the time.

Keywords: 'sometimes' and 'almost'.