Another Day In Someone's Life- Part 1

Tick tock, tick tock ,tick tock the clock went. It kept ticking, tocking, and making all of these unnecessary noises. This was so frustrating that I could just throw my stupid homework across the room. But of course I wouldn’t do that. This homework would decide if I was smart enough to move onto 8th grade. I personally thought it was idiotic to judge someone’s intelligence by their homework. As Albert Einstein oncesaid,“Everybody is a genius. Butif you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

Then I set down my impossible homework and picked up my drawing pad. I had been doodling and sketching for years now, and it always found a way to sooth me,oddly. I decided on drawing a girl. A girl with long, curly hair blowing in the wind, a long sundress fluttering, and a giant sun hat threatening to blow awayin the frozen wind. It seemed perfect, and if I made it just right, it’d be so cute, fun, and bubbly like all my other stress-relieving doodles.

What would this girl’s story be? I thought while gently tracing the girl’s huge eyes and large, circular glasses. She’d be 12, I decided. She was from Louisiana and loved to read by the beach, letting the waves wash over her bare feet. She’d be named… Serenity. Serenity appeared to come to life, the colors I had slathered over her becoming lively and vivid. Her eyes blinked, long eyelashes close to tickling her freckled cheeks. Then I began to actually care for her, as if she was an alive human.

Serenity seemed lonely; the only thing on the page was her. I drew in cat that looked like a stuffed animal, purring contently on her shoulder. I added a small beach in the background, the waves rolling over one another, attempting to be the first one to touch the sand.

I halted and dropped the colored pencil I was using to illustrate the said waves. I had let myself sink in too far again. I had allowed myself to care for another fictional character I had drawn on paper. I slipped out of my chair and room. I trotted down the stairs, skipping over the creaky ones. I peeked into my tiny kitchen. No one was there.

I pushed a chair against the counter and gingerly stepped onto the counter. I blindly swished my hand around on the top of the cabinets. I felt myself touch something smooth and I heard a soft tink. Aha, there it was. I pulled down the cookie jar and immediately stuck my hand inside, searching for the good cookies on the bottom. I pulled out one, and silently placed the jar back where my parents had uselessly hid it. The good cookies, in my opinion, were the oatmeal cookies with white, milk, and dark chocolate chips. I sunk my teeth into the delicious homemade treat, savoring the smooth taste.

I tiptoed back up the stairs, hoping nobody would be waked. Once I reached my room, I slowly shut the door.My room wasn’t anything special. There was a single poster that read “GOAL!” a simple wood desk from Ikea, a twin-sized bed, and a nightstand with a depressingly plain lamp. The only I particularly liked about the room was the good-sized window. I sat on the windowsill and stared into the sky. The window had nearly always allowed me to stare into the moon and the stars perfectly. No roofs blocked my view.

The stars twinkled and shimmered.They appeared to be so close, so close I could just jump out my window and snatch one right out of the sky. I wistfully gazed out the piece of glass,hoping for an event that would brighten up my bland life. But then the moon seemed to look right at me and sternly say, don’t you worry, Michelle, soon something will happen. And I believed that with all my heart. Then I fell asleep.