Make Me Hate

So It Begins

My Saturday morning stretched on as I struggle to find words to fill the final page of my English paper. The blank white page has tormented me for the last three hours. I was ready to write senseless bull to fill the page.

I moan and lean against the headboard, and wince when I hit my head. I'm too exhausted to focus on the pain. I close my eyes and think about the prompt question we were assigned for English.

What the hell DOES it mean to be a millennial today?

The heading was at the top of the blank page in bold, black letters. I stare at the screen until tears pool in my eyes. I blink them away and sigh loudly.

Mr. Howard thought he was doing us all a favor by assigning an essay on, in his words, a relatable topic. I couldn't think of anything to write. It was the type of question easier to discuss face-to-face rather than on paper.

When it came to writing there was no limit to expressing your opinions on an issue. It's finding the evidence and creditable research to validate your position. I could talk for hours comparing the differences between the young and old generations and how it impacts the future leaders of our generation.

I groan remembering that I still have a few assignments to complete. I was burnt out from staying up until two a.m. I only had a few hours before my friends would be here.

I put the laptop on my thighs and start typing.

An hour later, I shove my laptop off my lap and jump out of bed. I make my way to the kitchen as my stomach growls. Maria is walking towards me when I enter the room. She raises her head and smiles at me. A long, black ankle dress hangs from her body. I realize I've never seen her in casual clothing before.

"Hola."

Her greeting was short. I wave before she passes me. I hear her footsteps creaking down the hall and watch her disappear through a door when I looked over my shoulder. I assume the room was her quarters because you needed a specific key to open the door.

I hurry into the kitchen and heat up the leftovers from the night before. When I get back to my room I dive into the rest of my homework. I try not to overthink the last paragraph in my essay. I shut my laptop after I save the documents and put everything back into my bag.

I hear the doorbell ringing and glance down at my phone. When I reach the door and it, I find my friends standing on the other side. Their eyes are glue to the intrinsic designs around the border of the door.

"Hey, come in."

I open the door wider so they can walk through. Their eyes explored the house as they trail inside. I wasn't in the mood to give a house tour. I usher them upstairs.

I curse under my breath as I scan my messy room. I throw the clothes on my floor into a hamper, then gather the papers on my bed before I shove them in my bag.