A Unique and Torn Romance

I wake up with a grunt and a much too bright light shining through my eyelids. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow, but unfortunately; I’m already awake.
I try to lie still anyways. My alarm clock will ring son and my mom will come bursting through the door and pull my sheets off of me and pull me out of bed by my leg and tell me to do a thousand things until my head is spinning and I forget everything she just said, but I’ll wind up doing them anyway because they’re all a part of my morning routine and what time is it anyways?

I open one eye and see my pillow.
Wrong eye.
I close it again and open the other one. My vision is blurry, but not as blurry as it would be without my lenses. Great; I slept with my lenses in again.
I growl before I squint to see the large digital numbers.
Shit!
It’s 9:48! I’m late! No, wait; I’m beyond late!

I shoot up and start finding my clothes.
I’m fucking late. I’m incredibly late. I’m later than late. If I was a girl, I’d be fucking pregnant for sure considering how late I am!

I stop dead in my track. Periods; ew!

Then I continue pulling up my pants. Of course; the first pair of pants I get my hands on are my tightest ones – ergo; the hardest to get on!
I jump over to my dresser on one leg, while the other is stuck in my pants.
I let go of the pants – only one leg successfully inside of them – and rip open a drawer. I pull out a t-shirt and pull it over my head.
Fuck! I keep grabbing my tightest of clothes! Have I gained weight or is it just this cruel fucking day that continues to suck?!

My head and arms finally free themselves from the t-shirt and I manage to pull up my pants.
I grab my backpack, my hat and my keys before I rip my room door open, run across the hall and bolt down the stairs.
I meet my mom halfway. Her hair is tousled, her shirt is buttoned askew and she’s not wearing makeup. I frown at her, but continue running out of the door.
A thought passes my mind right when I grab onto the door handle.
I turn around and look at my mom’s shameful and apologetic face. My eyes widen.

Ew! No! Ew! She didn’t wake me because…she was… They… My parents had sex!

I screw up my face to get the disgust out somehow – as if that face actually helps – before I run out of the house as fast as fucking possible.
I jump into the car.

“Please,” I say – absentmindedly caressing the steering wheel.
“Please, start today. This is no longer a matter of my own comfort; this is life and death.” Yes; I’m overdramatic when I’m stressed.
I stick the key in the lock and hold it still.
“Please,” I whisper with my eyes closed. Then I turn the key.
The sound of a roaring engine fills my ears and I smile – widely.
“YES!” I yell triumphantly, then quickly open my eyes and drive off.

As I drive down our private road, I look in the rear view mirror – out of pure habit. I know no one’s behind me, but you can never be sure. After all; I do live in a town with monsters and freaks.
Oh, I’m sorry; “freaks” is not a nice word. Bad Mikey Freak! Yup; I’m a verified freak.

At the end of the street I stop, look and go back to first, before I quickly pull out onto the mainroad into town. Once I’m on the bigger road, I look in the rearview mirror again – now having a good reason.
No one’s behind me, but I do see myself. I notice something.
After a quick glance onto the road, I lean up to look at myself in the mirror.
Fuck! Shit! Crap-assed motherfucker!

I haven’t shaved! Obviously I didn’t have time, but maybe I should’ve brought my shaver in the car. Sure; I’d have hair everywhere, but at least I wouldn’t look like a goat!
You’d think that a normal teenager like me wouldn’t be able to grow that much hair in just one night, but after all; I’m not normal. Once again, my unicorn genes are biting me in the ass.
I don’t have a shadow, or even just a wimpy mustache. No; I have a goatee – a fully-grown, long goatee.
Fucking unicorn genes!
I don’t even have a scissor with me, because my school “won’t tolerate any sorts of weapons”, and apparently a scissor is a deadly weapon.
Fucking fuck!

I speed through the parking lot. I find a vacant spot and turn the wheel violently, before I slam the breaks. I’m surprised I didn’t hit any other cars.
I slam the door behind me – locking it quickly – and trudge across the lot to the school.
I don’t even care that I’m late anymore. All I care about is being angry enough to ignore the ridicule from everyone – even Frank. Of course Frank is “just teasing”, but it still hurts. I never tell him that.

I stop outside the door to my class. I glare at it.
I consider just turning around and driving off to…somewhere. I could go to the pond again. Last time turned out okay.
I stare at the door. My breathing has calmed down and I’m not visibly angry anymore. I still feel angry. I feel so many things; refusal, anger, hope, sadness and…closure.
I’m done with all of this. I can’t deal with this shit anymore.