The Worst Day

A little journal entry that I thought would make a good story.

                                               

The worst day of my life was...

today. I woke up at ten to go to Jim's with my parents, like we do almost every Sunday. It was okay until we got home. I did a bunch of home work with my mom's help, and then I got distracted and was on Myspace and playing solitaire and such then my mom caught me and was all it's no wonder you're failing and kicked me of the computer then I went and sulked upstairs till my dad came up and was like why are you failing crew? "I'm not failing crew, I'm just getting a b-, sorry for not being perfect." I said. then i stormed downstairs to my room and started to listen to "Zzyzx Road" by Stone Sour. half way through the song my dad comes in and turns of the music and tries to use guilt to make me vacuum. I probably would've if he hadn't tried to make me guilty, he can usually cheer me up by changing the subject and then I'll do whatever and such. I just pretended he didn't exist, and turned the music back on when he left. I got half through the song when he came in again. Again he turned off the music and tried to get to me with regret, "oh, your mom is really stressed, she's over there crying, the medicine is f*****g with her emotions" and such.

I'm a mule. the only way you can get me to do anything when I'm in one of my moods is to, (a) let me be and I'll eventually get hungry and come out and eat something and food helps my mood or, (b) divert my attention, which only my dad can do. if you try to push you'll only meet resistance.

Then I turn my music back on and cry for a while and s**t when my mom comes in and unplugs my alarm (my alarm is also my CD player and my radio) and sits in my bed and is all crying and won't get out of my bed so I'm all okay I'll vacuum super fast then they can't complain and will leave me in sullen peace.

So I go upstairs and vacuum and come back down to my room and mom is still there in my bed so I'm like I did what you asked me to please get out of my bed. She says I didn't do a thorough job, I have to go do it again. I say no one will notice or care and she's still all go do it again. I ignore her and go plug my alarm back in and now it's all flashy and fucked up and the buttons don't work. This is the last straw.

"Great you fucked up my alarm, I'm going for a walk."

I go out the back and I walk really fast for about ten minutes up passed 11th until I come to street that runs into the back of Westminster then curves around to a dead end. So I stand there for like five minutes thinking how cliche it is and how it's pouring out and my feet, which are bare, are numb, and how I'm soaked and how I want to be backpacking all alone in the middle of nowhere.

Then I turn around and walk slowly home. When I get home I go strait to my room and sit on the edge of my bed freezing. Then my mom comes in and tries to get me to vacuum. The only word I said was no. When she goes upstairs I take off my jeans, which are soaking, I crawl under the covers and get warm again. There is no point trying to fix my alarm. 

My dad comes in and asks me if my walk helped. I say no, it didn't. He asks what's wrong, and when I don't answer, if I know what's wrong, and I say I don't know. At this point my head is so jumbled up and every stress that lead up to me cracking is all confused in one huge knot. He eventually is able to coax me out of my room.

That is how today became the worst day of my life. Or, as Homer Simpson says, the worst day of my life so far.

See? I can be optimistic, even on the worst day of my life so far.

Author's Note

I know the language is very teenager-y, but hey, I'm a teenager. I also know that this makes my family look as if we're all just a bunch of stuck up cretins, but we're not. Mom had breast cancer, and it was a hard time for all of us. i had just started high school, so it was pretty stressful even without cancer thrown in the mix. For the record, my mom is now officially a breast cancer survivor.