I couldn't sleep at all last night. All I could do was think. Thoughts, memories, would've beens, should've beens are as unuseful as my sudden urge to shrivel up and die. A horrible attempt by my mind to change, what I know wouldn't.
No matter how hard I tried to hold back tears or swallow the pain in my throat. When my alarm sounds, the world will still be the same. Crumbling down.
I settled into the soft black sheets of the bed and did my complete best to outrun my thoughts. I prayed hard that I would sleep more than an hour.
I didn't even fall asleep till one-thirty.
Now I have another round of shoulda, coulda, woulda destroying my flow. Feeling sorry for myself is so fifteen hours ago. I'm going stir-crazy. Insane.
Instead of depressing myself, even more so than I already had, I decided to get ready for the first day of my sophomore year.
--
Gingerly stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel tight around my body and rinsed my face with a Bioré facial wash. Subsequently brushing my teeth, I spreaded Jergens African Shea Butter lotion, smeared on Secret pH balanced deodorant under my arms, and squirted a dash of Pink Ice perfume on my wrists and neck.
I dressed in a pink crotched flounce tank top, light blue acid rinse distressed jeans, and a pair of white Nike Backboard II's. After applying some light makeup, searched around the room for my tan MCM backpack. Once I found it and dug through it for my mother's gold heart and key two row necklace to wear. Instead of flat ironing my hair again, I washed it and used the appropriate items for a wash and go hairstyle. I left my hair in its naturally curly state and parted the top for an updo.
Breakfast with the Nixes and Taranee was quiet. We ate a meal comprised of chocolate-chip pancakes, bacon, cheesy-eggs, and sausage- it was good, but nothing compared to Aunt Trin's cooking. They wished me well at school and I thanked them. Knowing that their well-wish was wasted, good luck tends to avoid me.
Finding the school wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, considering the fact that I'd never been there before. I parked and unwillingly headed down the little stone pathway and past the darkly colored hedges.
I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the Cedar Path. The school isn't as old as the ones in Europe, but it had been built in the same style, and had many trees and shrubs surrounding it. The buildings boasted elaborate, almost church-like architecture with high peaks and stone carvings. Wroight iron gates enclosed the small gardens and doorways here and there. The academic buildings sat on one side, while the gym sat on the opposite. The administrative buildings sat on one of the other ends. It resembles a university more than a typical high school. I took in a shaky breath and pushed through the bulky doors.
I walked to the principal's office, through the commons, and it's breakfast time. Students sat together, eating, and socializing; faces alight with the current gossip that held the school's attention. When I entered, the loud buzz of conversation stopped instantaneously, like someone flipped a switch. Hundreds of sets of eyes swiveled towards me. I returned the stares of my new classmates, with a lazy grin.
My walk to Mr. Russell's office thankfully ended. He was hunched over his desk, looking over papers. I knocked on the door, he looked up and smiled. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.
Mr. Russell's a strapping caramel-skinned man, 6'8 with bulging muscles, and very handsome with his fresh haircut. He wore black True Religion jeans, a red and white checkered polo button up, and black Louis Vuitton sneakers on his feet; which immediately made feel underdressed.
