A story about life, love and learning to let go.


2. Reality

I feel vibrating from underneath my head and grumpily reach for my mobile. With my eyes half open, I lazily hit the 'Off' button and stumble down the stairs. There on the dining room table are two slices of granary bread, the same thing I've been eating for breakfast since I was five. I turn the radio on to hear the morning song that is always played at six o'clock in the morning. Right on cue, my dad bursts in singing the first line of 'How d'ya like your eggs in the morning'. When I turned old enough to think of clever comebacks, I used to reply that I liked mine with my mum. My dad always looked a little crestfallen at this but I soon learned to stop. 

I put the kettle on before he has the chance to ask and start spreading my toast. With nothing better to do, I cover the whole slice of bread with the marmalade, not missing a crumb. I guess it's just something I do to amuse myself. As I lick my finger and wipe up all the crumbs, I notice my dad looks almost happy for once. For a split second, he smiles, but then it's ruined when he stands outside and has his first cigarette of the day. I still love him but I just have to hate the smoker in him. He's the only family I have and he's slowly killing himself. Gee, thanks Dad. 

I hastily shove my plate into the dishwasher and get my stuff ready for school. As I put my make-up on, I look at myself and wonder why I can't be as pretty as the girls in my form. They have perfect teeth, perfect hair and perfect everything. They really are beautiful. I slap on some foundation and give up. 

Walking to the bus stop, I see Kelly, my best friend. We have a laugh like always and the old ladies tell us to be quiet so we laugh some more. Kelly and I have the same lessons all day. First up, Biology. Ugh I hate biology. Today we're learning about the functions of our lungs and vital chest organs etc. A campaign for smoking to stop comes up on the board and I feel physically sick. Almost as if it had been planned, our Head of Year walks in asking for me. 

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