Welcome to Florence

First day of my two thousand eleven school year was completed today. My stomach turns at the mere thought of trying to extract one word or phrase that could describe it. I completed my day having felt an array of emotions at different times, sometimes changing as often as the incorrectly-placed minute hands would move on every clock in the school building. I have to resist the urge to explode and spill everything out in a messy rant. So, I suppose we'll start from the top, wherever I feel that should be.... why not the very beginning, from the first time I grasped some sort of consciousness from my sleep. And I feel like writing more than usual right now, so there's no telling how long this is going to be.

The odd, muffled sound of the cell phone that my brother and I share on emergencies pulled me out of my night's rest. It was a moment before I could realize what it was and a moment longer before I could open my own eyes. The room was still dark. Obviously, I had beaten the sun in rising earlier. I silenced the continuous vibrating coming from the phone, an alarm I’d set to wake me up at this time in the morning. I put it away and quickly replaced it with my iPod, pressing and holding the power button to turn it on. Luckily, it gave me the screen that it needed to be charged before it would do anything. I quickly placed it on my charger, conveniently placed beside my bed, and laid back down, facing the ceiling. It was silent in my house. For all I knew, my mom could still be asleep downstairs. It was understandable, though. Who else had a reason to get up at 5:30, other than myself, obviously? I waited patiently, in silence as my iPod slowly booted up. If there weren’t two other people occupying my room asleep, I might have gone ahead and started my day, but I had to remain there, quiet, stirring as little as possible, as to not wake up my fellow cousins. I tried not to close my eyes, in fear of drifting back off into sleep. My eyes yearned for just a little more time closed, but I had other plans and I didn't want accidental sleep to be the reason I couldn't complete those plans. My iPod finally loaded up and, still in a haze, I entered the familiar password with three quick taps and opened the app I use to text as I slowly gaining a grasp on some sort of alertness. Once it'd completely loaded, I opened the conversation between the person behind my password and myself.
I quickly wished him a good morning and, knowing that, if he’d followed his own plans, he’d already be up, didn’t bother laying back down. Instead, I propped myself up on my shoulder and patiently waited for his reply. Yes, that was my reason for rising earlier than anyone else in my house: to get to talk to him. I haven’t done it for anyone else and I wouldn’t. He’s the only exception.
As time went by and 6:00 rolled nearer, I was becoming anxious to get up and start getting ready. Last year, my mother woke my up at 6:15. Having to leave the house earlier this year and having six more people in the house, I assumed she’d wake me up at six. My aunt came in to wake up one of my cousins to get ready for school and I used her as an excuse for getting up. I went and grabbed the shirt I had decided to wear and the pants I had already retrieved the night before and quickly went and changed in the bathroom. Afterwards, I returned to my room to text him back before I went out to eat breakfast. My mom, not realizing I was already up and at it, walked back to my room, poking her head in. She found me fully dressed, standing beside my bed, tapping away at my iPod. I smiled and wished her a good morning. She returned it and began to turn away. Not getting more than three steps from my room, she turned back around and poked her head in again. Finishing my text, I put it down as she said, "Are you texting?"
“Yes?" I replied.
"Are you texting someone this early in the morning?”
"Yes," I repeated, walking past her and out of my room. I almost mentioned who and the fact that’d he'd been up since 5:15 cause he had to go to the store, but the tone of her voice, especially the second time, cautioned me not to. "Noo!" she said, surprisingly sternly as if I was a three year old who had touched something that could be easily broken. It was weird. I gave her a vague, "okay," but of course, that didn't stop me. I don’t know what her fuss was about. It was six and I was fully dressed. That never happens. It wasn’t like I was behind schedule; I was far ahead.
I went out into the kitchen to indulge myself in (drum roll)... a bowl of cereal. No more wonderful, first-day-of-school breakfasts like we used to have before I got into ninth grade. I don’t blame her for this one, though. Who wants to make scrambled eggs and bacon for five kids? Well, the real question is: ‘who wants to get up that early and prepare that much?’ Even if she had, I probably wouldn’t have eaten very much of it. I was not used to eating that early and I had the feeling I was going to be rather hungry before lunchtime rolled around....
Finishing my preparation for school didn’t take much longer than that. If it wasn’t for my sluggish brother, I could have been out of the door by seven, but Jeremy delayed us till ten after. It’s his fault if there is a bunch of traffic by the time she drops me off first because he didn’t prepare himself fast enough. But I got to school in plenty of time, nonetheless.

I suppose this will be another 'to be continued' post. My eyes hurt from staring at the screen and it's fairly late. So...

To be continued.

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