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Pen Your Pride

A Day in The Life of Sadie Hall

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   My days may be boring, but that doesn't make them easy. And lately, even waking up has been a chore, because I've somehow managed to roll off of my bed and onto the floor almost every night for the last month.

   Take right now for example. Completely pitch black, except for the glowing red of the alarm clock somewhere over my head. Trying to sit up and check the time is just about impossible due to the blankets wrapped around my body like a cocoon, and my legs were tingling painfully.

After a few seconds of trying to get free from the mess of blankets, I finally manage to get an arm out and reach up to grab the clock.

   5:27 am

   Maggie would be in to wake me in little over an hour, but until then I could either lay here or get up, get dressed and re-examine my room for the umpteenth time this week. I chose the latter, and used the old wooden nightstand to pull myself into a sitting position. My back and neck ached from lying on the floor, but my legs were beginning to feel normal again, so I stood up.

   There's a lamp up here somewhere, I thought as I ran my hands across the cluttered nightstand, knocking several papers onto the floor. My fingers found the cold switch, and blinding white light filled the room. I groaned and squinted at the mess I'd made, then busied myself cleaning up.

   My hands froze when I noticed a post-it note I didn't remember writing. I tried to read it, and blamed my half-asleep brain for not being able to make sense of the words. Then I realize, feeling rather stupid, that it wasn't even in English. I stared at it for a few seconds in frustration, wishing I could read it, before sighing in defeat and setting it back on the nightstand where I assumed it had been before, and proceeded to clean up the rest of the mess.

   With that mess cleaned, I had nothing else productive to do. So I dug through the drawer under my bed, looking for something suitable to wear. To my annoyance, someone (Maggie), had taken most of my old, comfortable clothes that I was used to and replaced them with newer, more mature looking clothes. When did she find the time to switch these out? I wondered, digging through my new wardrobe choices. I could choose between either skinny jeans or short-shorts, with the gray uniform shirt, tank, or hoodie.

   I decided on a tank top, with a little iron-on flower Maggie must have added, and a pair of skinny jeans that made it almost made it almost impossible to bend my knees completely. I missed my ugly, floral gray dresses already.

   Glancing at the clock again, I stifled a groan at the meager 10 minutes that had passed since I'd woken up. This really was going to be a long day, wasn't it?

---

   Maggie would be coming to bring me breakfast any minute now, thank god. My stomach growled hungrily at the thought of her pancakes, and bacon, and if I'm lucky some strawberries. Although, seeing how it's the middle of Winter, I doubt they have any good strawberries. A quiet knock at the door caught my attention, and I leaped up from my desk chair to meet her.

   "Goodmorning, sweetheart." She whispered, trying not to wake anyone who may still be sleeping nearby.

   "Morning," I mumbled. "You brought some food, right?" She smiled, and held up a cardboard box that smelled like maple syrup and something super sweet. I went to grab it from her, but she pulled it behind her back and stared at me for a moment, before sighing.

   "What's wrong?" I asked, sitting back down at my desk impatiently.

   "Are you okay?"   She'd brought this up almost everyday lately. How worried she was, how I'd been quiet, or how I wasn't eating enough. Honestly, I was getting tired of it. Tired of her asking, tired of  never knowing what's going on, tired of everything. 

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