Rebellious.

Comfortable Solitude.

HI EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is my first story and it involves heavy topics and I want all of you to take care of yourselves!

So I'm letting you know in advance that this story involves topics such as: drug use, unstable home life, however if there is anything such as mature content I will also place a warning :)

Thank you for interacting with my story and I wish you all the best! Ily!!!

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My head sank further into my pillow as the sound of my alarm went off.

Maybe if I push my head harder into the pillow, I might potentially become the pillow.

"Shut the fuck up" I splattered at the annoying sound as I fiddled through my sheets trying to find my phone.

But I did not find said phone, I had the joy of my bed sheets fighting back at a half asleep vulnerable me, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth I sighed, reaching through the sea of cotton once more to try and knock off the annoying sound.

Turning off the alarm, I mentally smiled at winning the battle against the sound, I sat up rubbing my eyes and began to look around my room.

The sound of rain drops were muffled by the dark grey curtains covering my window, I imagine there to be an equally dreary sight outside of them.

But that's Washington Marley for you.

Most of my wardrobe was on the floor, scattered into piles, half under the bed, hanging on draws. Old cups, old plates and textbooks create an extra layer of flooring.

My room had been this way for months, the only way it is even recognisable as a room was my basic things like my bed and my wardrobe, it looked like trash.

It didn't always look this way, and an idea of what it used to look like was still sort of there...

- A few months ago -

I stood in my doorway, proudly observing my room; green leaf vines hung from my ceiling, a few odd fairy lights on the ceiling to add some light - my normal bedroom light was always too bright.

I had a black-framed bed in the corner of my feature wall - which was all white - also littered with posters of my interests, films like pulp fiction, manga panels and anime.

A big, green, fluffy circular rug was placed in the centre of my floor, it complimented the white carpet that painted the floor underneath it, I always preferred the two colours contrast.

My draws decorated with crystals and salt lamps atop of it, I learned to love the symbolism behind each crystal, finding them along random travels, the memories held a dear place in my heart.

A walk-in closet tucked into the right side of my room, with a statement vanity to the outside left of it.

It was my dream.

- Now -

But now it looked like someone told this room to give up and it threw up all of it's continents onto the floor and it never felt like a room since, to an outsider anyway. It was still homely to my standard, too homely.

The comfort I found in it being so imperfect was tragic.

I had been missing school all week, laying in bed only leaving to eat, go to the toilet and check in on my brother so he wouldn't study himself to death since he was always overworking himself .

Who knew being lazy would be so tiring. 

It's not that I was bad at school, I'm pretty naturally smart, I just have no motivation except to stare at my ceiling from the moment I wake up, to the moment I sleep.