The day begins as dawn struts in.
The sun forces my eyes open and bathes me with warmth.
I feel sleepy.
The bed is too soft.
It’s tough to muster the willpower to leave that comfort.
But I push myself out of bed.
I have a way of doing things, an SOP of sorts, if you will. And I prefer to not stray from it, so I don’t have to spend my energy in thinking about what I need to check-off every morning.
My clothes for the day are tossed on the bed — just a baggy black tee, black cargos, pink underwear, blue bra and yellow socks, paired with white running shoes.
My backpack sits on the bed too, ready for an easy grab-and-go on the way out of the room.
My accessories are limited, so are the amount of chemicals I use to decorate myself.
They are always kept on the dressing table, unmoving.
I make my bed, it’s a habit.
I open the curtains fully to let all the light in.
I take a glance in the mirror.
And don’t particularly like what I see.
But I want to.
After all, she is me.
She deserves everything in the world.
She is not the problem, I am.
“I am sorry, I’ll do better for you”, I mumble, staring at her face, while she imitates me.
I brush my teeth.
Then is the time for a little cup of coffee that I don’t have time to sit and peacefully enjoy because I’m already running super late.
The home is silent, and the halls are chilly due to the windy night.
But the atmosphere feels fresh on my skin.
I walk down the stairs as quietly as I can.
Five minutes later, the coffee comes to a boil on the stove.
I switch off the gas and pour it in a teacup.
I chug it down within like a minute and run off to get dressed.
As I wait for the water to heat up, I scroll on my phone.
I have a weird habit of opening and checking every important app each time I open my phone. It’s irritating to do, but I can’t help myself.
Nothing interesting, a few messages.
I pull the tap to fill the bucket while I strip my clothes and tie up my hair.
I hate how I look naked.
But I still study everything in the mirror.
My face, my breasts, my arms, my stomach, my waist, my thighs, my buttocks.
All the stretch marks, body hairs and scars.
“Hideous”.
I instantly feel guilty.
I am doing it again. To her. To me.
I sigh.
The bucket is now filled to the brim with warm water.
I pour the water on my body. The warm touch of it feels soothing.
I close my eyes.
A sudden realisation shatters the brief moment of relaxation though.
“Oh devil, I’m getting late!”.
I hurriedly wash off with the rest of the water, dry myself and get changed.
I always do it in the exact same way:
Underwear. Bra. Socks. Hair. Sprinkle some perfume. Lip balm. A touch of lipstick. Watch. Cargos. Shoes. Tee. Deodorant.
All set.
I have a sip of water, grab my bag and head out to drive to college.
[To be continued..]
P.S. Like what you read?
Wowieeee !!
"After all she is me ". Yes, Damm
Waiting for part 2 💙
I really liked this one! Maybe I related to it in a different way, but it was dope. Waiting for another part.