Is It a Life Worth Missing?

I shrugged as I walked into the house, seeing my brother disapprovingly judging me from our blue couch in the living room. Swinging a hard right at the end of the foyer into the hallway leading to my room, I ran into my mom. I could tell she was upset and disappointed but I just brushed past her without even talking and turned left into my room. Softly closing the door, I dropped my backpack on the floor and pounced into my bed.

            I stared at the ceiling fan as it spun around and wondered if I could achieve anything at school. Everything would be much easier if I was not pressured to go to school and I could just live out my life in an apartment. My mom would say something like:

“If you don’t go to school you’ll end up underneath a bridge injecting heroin!”

She was pretty brass sometimes. If I walked out of my room now I knew a scalding would be in order and if I fell asleep, I would wake up at ten and spend all night awake. The dilemma was huge and not something, my puny brain could muster. Thinking this much, more often would generally kill me, but it was special day; I had an energy drink at lunch.

Going against my initial instinct, I walked out of my room and into the fire. Wait, no one is out here! I was relieved that the scalding would be postponed but still unusually nervous. Wandering around, I studied every room to make sure they were gone before going into the kitchen. In the kitchen I scanned the fridge but found nothing, walked away and then came back to look again; still nothing

“Dammit! Nothing to eat!” I angrily whispered.

Everything sucked since I got to school. It was my schools fault my day sucked; I could have done without school today. I hated school, with a passion I mean, it just royally sucked. I could not stand the stupidity surrounding the idea of school. I mean really, who wants to go sit down for six hours and be talked down too? I felt I made a fairly convincing point, picked up some cheese and crackers from the fridge and swaggered back to my room.


            I woke up, not even realizing that I had fallen asleep. I was relieved I made the night without being snuffed by a pillow. Getting out of bed felt especially awful, my back hurt and it seemed like I had a mallet hitting me in the head. I staggered when I stood up and looked around. I noticed that the cheese and crackers I had eaten had moldy cheese. I groaned and carried on to the bathroom to do my normal routine. I brushed my teeth, crawled into my pants, and changed my shirt. I did not feel well.  

            Shortly after I enjoyed my spectacular vomiting fest, I wandered into the kitchen. Of course, nothing was made, who would want to make me anything after yesterday? It seemed unreasonable to be mad at me, I am who I am and I am someone who cannot avoid breaking rules. If someone has a problem with me, than they do not have to be my friend. In fact, that is why I do not have any friends. Some might say I am a loose cannon that cannot avoid trouble, but that is why I am happier than those people. Who could argue that breaking rules is not fun?

            Well school was soon, I had not had breakfast and there was little chance of making the bus. What should I do in this kind of predicament? That is easy, sit down and watch some Jimmy Neutron, damn I love that show.


            My mom stormed through the door, abruptly halting in front of me.

“Where the hell were you today!” she screamed. After looking off to the side for a second, I stuttered:

“Uhhhhh, here…?”

“WHY?” She screamed again.

“Because, I didn’t feel like going to school!” I said defiantly.


I fell to the ground. My mom was known for hitting hard, especially as enraged as she was but this particular smack laid me flat on my ass. I did not expect such a response. It baffled me when she walked away and cried, I did not know it hurt that much to hit me.

            Within about an hour, the swelling had gotten to a point where the bulb was in my peripheral vision. The physical proof was strong that she had a lot of anger built up, I mean, I could not even hit this hard. In all of the fights I have been in, this was the hardest I or anyone I have seen has gotten it. There are only so many things you can do when you are pissed, obviously, I know what my mom’s is. I wonder if I will need a speech therapist after being hit this hard? I wondered half-jokingly.

I stared into the mirror, observing my purple cheek and swollen left side of my lip. It really put things in perspective of how much I have really done. I am sure laws were broken hitting me this hard, no one does that unless they deserve it. Knowing my mom, I probably needed it last week but she got too busy procrastinating.

The End

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