When I find the energy to throw myself out of my bed, I stare at the wall for a couple seconds while my eyes adjust to the dark of my room. I stumble over clothes, pencils, papers, and other miscellaneous things I have lying around my room. Instead of dreading the burn my eyes will feel, I quickly turn on the light and close my eyes, hoping that’ll do the trick. After my eyes get over the initial shock of the artificial light beaming down on me, I slowly unlock my door and let out a harsh breath of air before I start the beginning of a long day.
Closing my bedroom door, I slowly slink my way to my bathroom. Once again, turning on the light blinds me for a couple seconds and I shut my eyes. When they open again, the mirror displays an ashy face, bloodshot eyes, and the skin of my lips peeling. I begin to pick at my skin in a quick attempt to permanently get rid of my acne. After I realize that it doesn’t quite work that way, I splash cold water on my face. As I desperately try to blink myself awake, I come to the conclusion that maybe today isn’t the day to actually get in the shower, and take on the day. I turn the bathroom light off, open my door, shuffle past the things on my floor, and lay myself under my blanket, trying to rush 8 more hours of sleep.
After what seems like no more than 3 seconds, a harsh knock bangs on my door. “It’s time for you to shower. Get up.” I jumped out of bed, to make it seem like I was already awake, grabbing my towel and rushing toward the bathroom. I decide that washing my face is useless and that brushing my teeth is a waste of everyone’s time, so I turn on the leaky shower instead. In a not-so-graceful manner, I yank my clothes off and step carefully into the shower, holding on the shower curtain like it would actually help, if I did fall.
When the hot water hits my body, it feels uncomfortable. I awkwardly look at the nearly claustrophobic space. Soon, I begin to melt into the warm touch of the poor water pressure on my skin. I grab the body wash, ignoring my small towel, and squeeze a glob into my hand. I rub it over my wet body and smile at myself. “I’m taking a shower!” I whisper-scream to myself. In my heart-of-hearts, I know I shouldn’t be celebrating my taking a shower, but I am so, so proud of myself. After my purifying shower, I turn the water off, and get out of the bathtub with a smile on my face. I grab my towel and wrap it around my body. I opened the bathroom door, only to reveal why I hadn’t taken a shower in a long time. The cold, the dark, the unknown. As the steam leaves the bathroom, I hastily run to my bedroom, slam the door behind me, and lock it once more. Laying in my bed, even though I’m soaking wet, I vow to never leave this comforting and inviting environment again.
When I find the energy to throw myself out of my bed, I stare at the wall for a couple seconds while my eyes adjust to the dark of my room. I stumble over clothes, pencils, papers, and other miscellaneous things I have lying around my room. Instead of dreading the burn my eyes will feel, I quickly turn on the light and close my eyes, hoping that’ll do the trick. After my eyes get over the initial shock of the artificial light beaming down on me, I slowly unlock my door and let out a harsh breath of air before I start the beginning of a long day.
Closing my bedroom door, I slowly slink my way to my bathroom. Once again, turning on the light blinds me for a couple seconds and I shut my eyes. When they open again, the mirror displays an ashy face, bloodshot eyes, and the skin of my lips peeling. I begin to pick at my skin in a quick attempt to permanently get rid of my acne. After I realize that it doesn’t quite work that way, I splash cold water on my face. As I desperately try to blink myself awake, I come to the conclusion that maybe today isn’t the day to actually get in the shower, and take on the day. I turn the bathroom light off, open my door, shuffle past the things on my floor, and lay myself under my blanket, trying to rush 8 more hours of sleep.
After what seems like no more than 3 seconds, a harsh knock bangs on my door. “It’s time for you to shower. Get up.” I jumped out of bed, to make it seem like I was already awake, grabbing my towel and rushing toward the bathroom. I decide that washing my face is useless and that brushing my teeth is a waste of everyone’s time, so I turn on the leaky shower instead. In a not-so-graceful manner, I yank my clothes off and step carefully into the shower, holding on the shower curtain like it would actually help, if I did fall.
When the hot water hits my body, it feels uncomfortable. I awkwardly look at the nearly claustrophobic space. Soon, I begin to melt into the warm touch of the poor water pressure on my skin. I grab the body wash, ignoring my small towel, and squeeze a glob into my hand. I rub it over my wet body and smile at myself. “I’m taking a shower!” I whisper-scream to myself. In my heart-of-hearts, I know I shouldn’t be celebrating my taking a shower, but I am so, so proud of myself. After my purifying shower, I turn the water off, and get out of the bathtub with a smile on my face. I grab my towel and wrap it around my body. I opened the bathroom door, only to reveal why I hadn’t taken a shower in a long time. The cold, the dark, the unknown. As the steam leaves the bathroom, I hastily run to my bedroom, slam the door behind me, and lock it once more. Laying in my bed, even though I’m soaking wet, I vow to never leave this comforting and inviting environment again.
