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YOUR SLEEPING SCHEDULE IS GETTING WORSE WITH EACH DAY. Maybe it's because it's nonexistent ever since you moved. Maybe even longer if you think about it. You were too anxious before moving to Tokyo to sleep, then your nervousness kept you awake before school, and now you found yourself too busy studying each night to even look at the time.
Three or four hours are enough to keep you awake for most of the day although you find yourself dozing off from time to time as your eyelids are slowly giving up on you throughout the day.
Not only you were studying last night but you also got a text message from the student council chat saying that someone destroyed the banner for the basketball team by the end of the day and the boys will need a new one tomorrow. Normally they would ask the art club but with a late hour, the council took it in their own matter.
Of course, you had volunteered yourself. The task itself was not hard although it did require you to go to the nearest store for the paper with the right measurements. The whole group chat thanked you and you knew you already scored yourself some points.
It's now morning as you roam around the kitchen making yourself a light breakfast. You turn on the kettle for both your parents as well as yourself. Coffee is what will keep you alive for the day although you don't like the taste of it at all. Maybe you'll settle for tea, after all, it's not a bad choice either.
Your mom finds your body slouched over the banner which you left on the kitchen floor to dry. She raises one of her brows, her lips part to ask the question.
-Did you sign up for the art class? -she asks startling you a little even though you knew either of your parents could come down any minute now. She watches the banner suspiciously, squinting her eyes a little.
-No. You know I would never. -you assure her quietly. The one thing your parents would never support you doing was anything art or music-related. They both find it a time-wasting hobby with little to no future.- I got into the student council so I'm helping out how I can.
-I see. Good girl. -she pats your head gently not to ruffle your hair too much. You only hum in response before rolling up the dried-up banner. Your eyes follow her to the kitchen counter and you quickly outrun her. Your hand almost slams on so precious notebook of yours you left on the sight. Your mom looks at you questionably as you close it gently and shove it deep inside your school bag.
