Ride Harder

One|Same But Different

The thing about moving away from the place you grew up is nothing ever seems right. You wake up in the morning, and it's still the same old you, with the same horrific morning breath, and the even worse bed head.
It's the same morning routine: get up, brush your teeth, wash your face, get dressed, do your hair, put your shoes on, and go.
It's the same vehicle you're driving to school, and the same regret you have every time you see the entrance sign for the student parking lot.
The same hate for school work, and the same joy that fills your body when the final bell rings.
The same brand of granola bar you eat after dropping your backpack in the same spot under the coat rack.
The same show that you watch while procrastinating on homework.
It's all the same, same, same. So, why is it so different?
Through shallow investigation, (shallow because I'm scared of what I might find if I dig deeper) I've decided that for me, it's different for two main reasons. One, I can see hardly any stars, and two, I have to pay to ride my dirt bike.
I've never had to pay unless I made the decision to drive my happy butt down to the track and have at it.
My entire life, I just hopped on my bike and went. There was no waiver to sign, or membership card I had to renew. Well, I guess there was every other Saturday when I did go down, but that's beside the point.
Now, unless I want to stare at my bike sitting in the impound lot, I have to drive my happy butt to the track. I just hope this is all worth it.
In the middle of an episode of Law & Order I heard Mom pop through the garage door.
"Hey, Ashlynn! You have a hair appointment in twenty minutes. We've got to get going." She had barely walked through the door and we were out again.
Without saying anything, I turned off the TV, threw away my trash, was out the door and in the car within a minute. Maybe a minute and a half. Mom? Still not in here.
It doesn't matter to me. I pull up Twitter on my phone and scroll through. I have a mixture of kids from my old school, kids from my new school, and people that I know from riding scattered down this never ending list of tweets. Instantly bored, I reach over and honk the horn. Mom comes scurrying out.
"You know, Mom, we could just go to a normal barber. Where they just spray your hair and cut it." I say, her finally pulling out of the driveway.
"This isn't a barber. It's a salon. And they don't just have stylists at the ready when you walk in." I roll my eyes at her, putting one leg on the dash.
"Why are we so late then? You know we won't make it."
"Everyone comes late. If they have anything to say, I'll let them know that, too." She replies, matter-of-factly.
Mom sure is interesting. It's just her and I in this huge house. One that I wouldn't say I liked, with five bedrooms and three bathrooms between two people. It just seems unreasonable. I had to come live with her, though. Dad's just doesn't work for me anymore. There's just too much going on, and never in a good way...

Two hours later, we are finally back at the house. My hair is lighter and healthier, but feels too short. Mom dives into making dinner while I, oh, so excitedly, start homework. It isn't too much and I'm sure I'll finish within the hour.
That's what I thought, at least, before I started. I'm too distracted. So much is going on in my head, and nothing has even happened. I do another problem, then decide now isn't the time.
Mom and I spend dinner together like always. She does dishes while I head upstairs afterwards. It's early, but I'm definitely tired.
I perform the same nightly routine: brush my teeth, wash my face, change my clothes, and lay in bed.
I keep thinking about Dad's. I'd still be there if things were calmer. I hate that. I hate how they took that away from me. I moved for things to be better, but it's been nothing but boring and annoying.
I reach over and grab the remote for my light. I've got to say, one advantage of a huge house is having cool gadgets. My favorite being this. I can lay in bed, and turn off the light. How convenient is that?
I don't like feeling the way I do. This stupid remote is the only fun thing about tonight. What to look forward to tomorrow? School. I have yet to find another person who enjoys anything that I do, too. The only people who want to be my "friend" are those who need to copy someone's homework. I never thought that I would be that person. I think that I've hit an all time low.
I need some sleep, and quick. I grab my phone and open Pandora. G-Eazy radio on, and my thoughts off.
Laying here, it's like almost all my worries are gone. I just hope tomorrow feels this way. My eyelids are too heavy to hold, and I'm done fighting them. Soon enough, I'm off to sleep.