my head in my hands

5 Mar

This morning started off late. My mom yelled down to me at 6:30, half an hour after I was supposed to leave for Seminary. She’d overslept, too. I tried to get up, but my eyelids were sown to my cheeks, and my eyebrows seemed tied together into a crease above the bridge of my nose. The light that snuck in under my lashes was just foul. I’m glad nobody was around to hear the groans or take a video of me staggering around in a shirt and underwear. (Don’t ask—I was really tired last night.)

I got up to check my alarm clock, which sits on my desk about eight feet from my bed. I remembered my first two alarms sounding, but what happened to my third? Why didn’t I wake up? Apparently, in my near-drunken stupor last night I mis-set my alarm for an hour later than wakey wakey eggs and bakey. Oh well. I soon discovered that I actually had first and second free, meaning I didn’t have to get to school until nine. MAGICAL.

I went back to sleep, but not until after reading Mr. Awesome’s email. It was sweet, as usual. Extra time, an email, and a cozy bed were all I needed for a perfect morning.

My sisters intentionally missed the bus. I’m still not sure what went through their heads, but I think it had something to do with wanting a little extra time. Naturally, my mom had to clean up their mess and drive them and me to our respective schools. I still can’t believe they’ll be in high school next year.

School was fine, but boring. I had fourth period free, which is a long block about two hours long. I didn’t really have any homework to do, and one of my ‘friends,’ Ireland, subtly shooed me away from her table by saying twice that I could “take the worksheet if you want.” In the school library, there are four seats to a table. She and her friend were occupying TWO. Why couldn’t I sit there? Was she embarassed to be seen with me? I think that is very possible. She cares all too much about her appearance and what people think of her. It drives me nuts that I’m in two of her classes—we sit together and work together and everything—and her best friend is my best friend, AND we both moved to this stupid town at the same time, and yet… I can take her worksheet with me.

Maybe she just had secret affairs to discuss.

Or maybe I’m paranoid. Entirely possible.

After school, I came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t empty or anything, just quiet. I went into Tortoise’s (Tor’s) room to see what she was doing, but she was watching boring Youtube videos and doing her homework. Blegh. I tried Pigeon’s room. I opened the door and she smiled up at me from her bad, hot pink mac on her stomach.

“I’m watching Smalleville.”

I think I actually squealed as I jumped under the covers. After less than ten seconds, she paused, then exited Netflix, and then went on Twitter. When I asked her why she would get me excited like that, she told me that she’d thought I’d go watch Smallville downstairs in my own room.

My own sister doesn’t want to watch TV with me. She would prefer to watch the same show, separately. I don’t have a laptop, so part of the reason I always like to watch with my sisters is that I like to watch in a comfy bed instead of sitting at a desk. But that’s really just a tiny part.

Later, I was on Facebook and I looked at all the prom dresses the other seniors posted. They’re all beautiful and brand-name. I’m not allowed to get a dress until I get asked because even my mom isn’t convinced that I’ll get a date. She doesn’t want me to even go if I don’t get asked. The prom posts just remind me how very single I am, and the tiny models serve as just one more jab in the far-too-flabby gut.

My birthday is in two days, but I honestly can’t think about who I’d want to invite to a party. It’s makes me too sad.

And I know that prom and parties don’t matter. They really don’t. It’s just that every time I think about those social occasions I’m supposed to enjoy, I get this awful sinking feeling, this sensation of impending truth. I guess it’s the dread of this wretched truth that makes me sit alone in the hallway of my house with my head buried face down in my hands.

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