Elinor is a young girl who dreams of a successful career in the job she has always dreamed of since childhood: writing. However, her parents demonstrate their disapproval of this choice, making Elinor move further away from that dream. Sad and unhap...
(n.) a lover of books; one who loves to read, admire and collect books
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It was always a mystery to me how she did it, how her mind could process such a complicated and extraordinary world from nothing. I, too, had tried countless times, but I always failed, stumbling over my own words and ideas, forming only a shapeless mass of words spat on a white sheet of paper.
My eyes ran over the page under my nose, reading and rereading the words I had put down, none of which made any sense. Frustration welled inside me as I grabbed my black pen and slashed through the words with such force that I tore the page. It was useless. Nothing I wrote struck me or gave me that satisfaction in writing something beautiful, and nothing motivated me to continue.
The only thing I wanted was to be as good as her, nothing more. I fell backward and leaned back in my chair, looking disdainfully at the mutilated paper before me. None of my family had ever tolerated this choice of mine. They only saw it as a huge waste of time and energy, something that would never get me anywhere, making me isolate myself from everything and everyone. Becoming a writer was my biggest dream, but the first people who should have supported this choice were the first to demolish this dream of mine. It didn't surprise me that I liked nothing I wrote.
I angrily crumpled the paper and threw it in the bin under my desk, no longer wanting to see the horrors I had written. It was tough on me. I took my phone with a sigh and stood up from the desk, not bothering to put the chair back in its place. My parents kept complaining that my room was always messy: clothes were thrown on the chair in the corner, notebooks were scattered around, and the basket overflowed with papers. But for me, that wasn't confusion; I knew where everything was, and anyway, I had to be in that room, not my parents. So I didn't understand why they had to complain so much.
I went down the stairs, the plastic sound of my flip-flops echoing in the quiet house. I spent the day at home alone, my parents leaving me free to do whatever I wanted, even though there wasn't much to do. Saturday was one of the most boring days; all I did was see on social media how people were having fun: going out shopping, eating with friends, or partying in the evening. I never did, even if I wanted to do the same. After school, I started losing many friends, not because of a fight, but just fate... they had taken different paths than mine, leaving me solitary. I only had one person by my side, my best friend Samantha, but as lovely as she was, she could never spend much time with me; she had her own life, too, after all.
Being in the summer didn't help my mental and physical state at all, especially the heat. At that moment, annoyed by my thousandth failure, the heat made me even more irritable and sticky with sweat. I gathered my hair into a simple, soft ponytail as I approached the living room window to open it, feeling a light breeze touches my skin, offering a pleasant sensation. Luckily, it wasn't a sultry day; otherwise, I would have melted.
