 Words Of A Love Song: Me, My Family and IThursday, July 25 • 03:43 • 0 comments .jpg)
As
always, I started my morning with a refreshing bath with my strawberry-scented
shampoo and a few sprays of Body Shop perfume I stole from mom’s make-up
closet. What? It smelt like freesias, I love freesias.
Today I felt strange. Like something
was going to happen later today. Maybe it’s my dream last night. Wait, what did
I dreamed of last night?
While waiting for breakfast to be
ready downstairs –it’s mom’s turn to make breakfast today- I took out my mini
Sharpie from my pocket and my turquoise nail polish bottle from my drawer. With
expertized concentration and a whole summer worth of practice, I drew a perfect
block thirteen on the back of my hand. Next, I unscrew the lid of my nail
polish, not to paint my nails but just to let a few drops of glittery turquoise
nail polish inside the block thirteen and smoothed the liquid with the little
brush attached to the lid of the nail polish bottle. Done, a perfect thirteen
to start my Monday morning, now I’ll just have to let it dry.
I checked my LeSportsac backpack that
my parents gave me for my birthday present this year –I’m so lucky to be an
only child- once again. Pencilcase? Check. Notebooks? Check.(I have four notebooks. One for school stuff and
scribbling, one for writing novels, one for writing songs, poems, quotes and
whatever, the other one is my diary a.k.a journal) Schoolbooks? Check.(Who
cares, really?) Novel? Check.(This is a must) iPod? Earphones? Where is it?
Yeah, in my pocket.
I switched on my iPod and continued
last night’s playlist. Don’t ask, all the songs in my iPod are Taylor Swift’s;
except a few Avril Lavigne and some of Katy Perry.
Long Live is playing. One of my
favourite songs.
Long live all the
mountains we moved. I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. I was
screaming long live that look on your face. And bring on all the pretenders.
One day, we will be remembered…
In my head, I started
imagining my day today. We just moved in this summer and being a shy girl –duh,
really- I did not went knocking on the doors of my neighbours and ask if I
could hang out with them. So the conclusion is, I have no friends. I started
feeling nervous, what if I get bullied? What if no one wants to sit with me in
the cafeteria? What if, what if, what if…
“Breakfast ready!” mom may look gentle
and petite, but when she shouts, be ready for an earthquake. Fifteen years
living with her had never made me get used to her high pitched shout. I rubbed
my ears and waited for the ringing in them to clear off before I got up,
scooped up all my things and ran for the stairs. No need for one of mom’s
shriek again this morning. I grabbed my things and ran down the stairs,
tumbling on my own feet on the last few steps and…
I fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Mom and dad who was chattering lightly while eating
breakfast looked up from the French toast mom served. Mom stared at me
openmouthed, dad choked on his coffee. I?
“Damn it! My back hurts!” I shut my eyes tightly and waited
for the pulsing pain to go away. Experience from so many clumsy moves taught me
that the worst pain from falling down will ease after a few seconds. Okay,
one.. two… three…
“Don’t curse in the house!” mom scolded me.
I opened my eyes slowly and hold onto the stairs handrail
to help me stand. I rolled my eyes and groaned. “Mom, I just fell.”
“No excuses, young lady. One more time you curse in front
of me, I’ll cut your monthly budget,” mom and her threats.
“Dad!” I begged for dad’s sympathy.
Instead of helping me, dad seemed to be nonetheless cruel
than mom. He gave me no concern that I just fell from the stairs moments ago
and focused his eyes on the back of my hand, where I drew my lucky number on. I
lowered my sleeve nervously, feeling my palms getting a bit wet as the pores on
my skin started producing nervous sweat. Dad is a very sensitive man.
“What’s that?”
I squirmed. “Nothing.”
“Show me your hand.” Dad’s order was short, strict. A
professional government worker like he is.
“I’m late for school,” I said, my
voice coming out hoarse.
“We could send you. You don’t have to
take the bus.” Mom offered, lifting dad out from the danger zone.
“It’s okay, mom. Good morning,” I
hugged them. “I’ll be fine, mom, dad. I’m fifteen, remember?”
After a few exchange of hugs and
encouragements, finally I stepped out of the house and waited nervously on the
curb.
My parents could be really
overprotective and, annoying sometimes. But as the only daughter, I have no
siblings so the only family I have is them. Well, I just hate the way they hate
Taylor and never appreciates my work of art. They are two very unsocializeed
creatures and that’s where I inherited my awkwardness in conversation. Dad hates
me reading too much novels but mom’s fine with the idea of me reading so
I only go to bookstores with mom –she is a very sporting mom. Mom’s fussy about
cleanliness and is a very neat person and she dislikes the idea of me –a girl-
following the footsteps of my messy father. And, we fight a lot.
:oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
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