Recovery

10 of November

So yesterday was one of those days that I thought would suck but turned out quite alright. I realized that this week (actually- last week now, since it’s Sunday) I failed in almost every aspect of my life. My classroom life is on the brink of a breakdown because of the kiss I shared with Juan, who is determined to wreck my life over it since I didn’t respond to it the way he wanted. At home yesterday morning, I groggily rolled over in bed and through my barely-opened eyes I saw Mum standing over my bed and disapprovingly looking at my cell phone. I was finally caught- my late night conversations on inappropriate topics with various boys isn’t something Mum is happy about, and frankly, neither am I. I spent the day politely avoiding her and not really looking forward to the fun conversation I knew we’d have about my social networking later that day. And to top it all off, I wrote well-thought out, 1,000+ words response to the How To Be A Teen Writer Without Making Me Want To Punch You In The Face post, and when I hit ‘publish’, all my work mysteriously disappeared without publishing. I had to rewrite the whole response, which I wasn’t too happy about. When Mum saw I was upset about the post and two days of work going down the toilet, she tried to come to my grateful rescue, even though we weren’t really on speaking terms. Although Mum is extremely computer savvy, what she did to my deleted post ended up terminating any chance I had of recovering my lost data. That was really the final straw for me- I trudged up the stairs, locked the door to my room, and cried hysterically into my pillow. I usually don’t cry, but the last couple days have been tough for me. My guns were down and my doors were opened wider than they have been in a long time, so I took the blows that have been building up much harder than I would’ve, back when I had a hardened heart. Eventually I wiped off the mascara that had ran down my cheeks and dabbed at my eyes. I looked at myself in my mirror and sniffed, then proceeded to get to my task of rewriting my lost blog. Mum came and sat next to me on the red couch as I typed up my new response, and we talked about my Facebook conversations. I had had a hyped sense of paranoia all day that my relationship with Mum was ruined, just like my relationships with Juan and some of the boys in my class were. Of course I completely wrong- my mother is one of the coolest people I know, and we see eye to eye about almost everything. I’m a spitting image of her, and my strong ties to her and our tried and true love for each other really shown through in our talk, just like it always does. She didn’t make a big drama about the content of my conversations, even though I know it’s the most explicit thing she’s seen me do. I love her more than anyone I think, and she is a million times more important to me than boys, obviously, so I was ecstatic that she accepted my wrongs and forgave me so easily. Currently, my iPhone is on probation, but the only reason that bothers me is it means no music of a while. I’m inching towards recovery, because like I said, time keeps moving forward. 

Things are improving slowly but surely, and I hope soon everything at school will be back to normal.

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