George had just gotten up for breakfast. He glanced at his alarm clock. It was 7:30, and if he wasn’t quick enough he’d miss the bus. He had already missed it several times before, and it was beginning to wear on his own nerves.
“Man!” he moaned, “Why can’t I do anything right!”
Because you’re a screw-up. His thoughts told him, half-jokingly. George sighed and got up. After getting dressed, he stumbled over to the nearby mirror to look at his own reflection.
“Cmon! Another pimple!” he cried. George had been using the Acne medication for weeks, but it hadn’t been helping.
I’m meant to look ugly. I just know it! he thought.
George sighed again. His string of bad luck had been lasting for quite some time now, and frankly he was sick of it. His guitar strings broke, he burned his cereal while cooking it, and he couldn’t even find his favorite Plasma Disco album.
I wish something would just go right for once. he thought. I’m such a screw up!
After getting dressed and stumbling out the door, George headed downstairs to get some breakfast. If he wasn’t fast enough, he would miss the bus and be late for school. On the way down the stairs, he hummed some lines. Rock was one of his favorite types of music. He had so many memories of going to concerts and really enjoying himself. Normally, he was kind of quiet. But for some reason, at concerts, he really let himself loose.
Music is great. He thought. It’s one of my favorite ways to express myself.
After walking into the kitchen, he grabbed Capt N Crunch”, his favorite cereal.
Crunch Berries…Mmmm….
He devoured the whole box of tasty treats, steadily enjoying each bite. After this took place, George grabbed some quick paper from a nearby desk. Using a pen, he quickly drew some flowers and some ice cream cones. After doing a quick 2 minute edit, he was finished.
This is perfect! He thought. Sasha will love it!
Sasha was his friend from school, and honestly, one of the only things that helped him get through the drudgery that is high school. At least if he was a screw up elsewhere, at least Sasha would accept him for who he is.
“George!” his mother’s voice boomed from down the hallway. “Hurry up, or you will miss the bus! This is the third time I’ve had to remind you, and I’m tired of it. Can’t you take care of yourself, but no, I have to do everything for you….”
George sighed again. He wished his mother was more accepting of him as a person. He really did.
Not content to get to school on a low-note, George forced himself to smile and stumbled out the door. It was going to be a long day.
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