It was late. I was tired. Mother was yelling her head off that I couldn’t – wouldn’t be allowed to – sleep until I’d done cleaning out my closet. She stood behind me, her hands on her waist, her face set in a ferocious scowl. My head was pounding, my eyes just begging to be shut. I gave her a very rebellious teenager look and proceeded forward to dump everything from my closet, to my bed. I took my clothes, my text books n left them in a heap on the bed. I picked up the chocolate wrappers, the dried up pens and the dirt-stained socks. I kicked at the fallen papers and got a death glare from mother.
“Don’t act immature. I want this to be cleaned. Now.”
I gave out a disdainful snort and refused to answer. I was so tired, my limbs were screaming with exhaustation, and my mind was filled with my bad day. My chest was experiencing little pangs of pain and all I wanted to do was sleep. I just wanted to be embraced by the warm arms of unconsciousness and ferry off to some dream where I was not me and me was not I. I wanted something familiar and I wanted nothing at all, at the same time. All in all, I just wanted to be left alone. In my hurry to act like the all knowing, arrogant teenager by trying to hold a dozen books in my hands, I stubbed my toe on the loose board of the bed and tripped, spilling all my books on the floor. I was in agony now. My toe was hurting like hell and all I wanted to do was let out a string of some selective swear words but had to refrain from doing so thanks to my mother.
Mother looked on impassively as I picked up the fallen books and practically threw them on the bed. My closet was almost empty now, except for a few of my books kept in the far corner. My mother started on a rant about how I didn’t know to organize things and that I had to learn to throw away all the trash.
“Don’t act immature. I want this to be cleaned. Now.”
I gave out a disdainful snort and refused to answer. I was so tired, my limbs were screaming with exhaustation, and my mind was filled with my bad day. My chest was experiencing little pangs of pain and all I wanted to do was sleep. I just wanted to be embraced by the warm arms of unconsciousness and ferry off to some dream where I was not me and me was not I. I wanted something familiar and I wanted nothing at all, at the same time. All in all, I just wanted to be left alone. In my hurry to act like the all knowing, arrogant teenager by trying to hold a dozen books in my hands, I stubbed my toe on the loose board of the bed and tripped, spilling all my books on the floor. I was in agony now. My toe was hurting like hell and all I wanted to do was let out a string of some selective swear words but had to refrain from doing so thanks to my mother.
Mother looked on impassively as I picked up the fallen books and practically threw them on the bed. My closet was almost empty now, except for a few of my books kept in the far corner. My mother started on a rant about how I didn’t know to organize things and that I had to learn to throw away all the trash.