Who cares ?

I wake up. Shit. Monday. School. Army of bitches. “You got the love Florence and the machine” is blaring through my phone, my crappy alarm that never works. It’s always the truck going up and down the hill to the garage by my house that wakes me. Stupid mechanics. I sit up and know that if I don’t get up now I will be late for school, as my mother is probably experiencing a severe hang over from Sunday’s parties. I know, only Fridays and Saturdays are meant to be party nights but for my mother every night is party night. It doesn’t matter if you have a teenage child to look after. I sit up and groan. Its 6:45 in the morning! I could be asleep for another half hour. Oh well, I may as well go get dressed now. I tip toe across the creaky floorboards and feel something sharp enter the sole of my foot. Shit! I have a massive splinter poking out of the sole of my foot. God, good thing I was up early otherwise I would seriously be late. I hop around my room, looking for tweezers. I shove an old teddy bear in my mouth and secure the tweezers around the little piece of wood that is going to kill like hell when I pull it out. 3. 2. 1 PULL!
I squash the teddy bear in my mouth and try not to cry. I look at the tweezers and see that the splinter is out. There is a small red mark in the area and I know I will be fine. I walk, limping slightly because of the soreness to my sock/underwear draw. I pull out some socks and some dotty underwear. Changing into my horrible, crappy school uniform I observe myself in the nine circled mirror. The polo shirt is a light blue, my jumper a navy blue that is a V neck with the logo on. My trousers are dark navy and my socks black. I wear a beaded bracelet to show individuality. I trudge down the steps and go into my dingy kitchen and look in the vertically long cupboard for cookie crisp. My favourite cereal.
I pour some out and tip a whole load of milk on top. I shuffle towards the green sofa that is draped with a white throw. I eat my cereal while listening to the radio. I spill some milk down my trouser leg and onto the sofa. “shit.” I say and go to the kitchen to dump my bowl and grab a tea towel. I wipe away the milk stains and put the tea towel in the washing machine. I walk to the sanded kitchen table and check my bag to see if I had packed anything last night which luckily I had. I go to the fridge and pulling my packed lunch out and stuff it in my bag. It is organized, my books at the back in a multi-coloured stripy folder, my planner, then my lunch box, extra water and my pencil case.
I zip up the bag with quick jerky motions. I am defiantly not a morning person. I go to the bookcase that has the hair straigtners on top and plug them in. I look in the long mirror and see a stubborn piece of hair sticking out. I look like a dalek! I go into the bathroom and look for any kind of hairspray; I come out with a sparkly one. Great. Another reason for the “it” people to make fun of me.