You Call This a Gift?

Yawns came tumbling out of my mouth as I forced my eyes open and stretched. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, which was painted in light pink; this was a poor choice I made while young. Pink has got to be my least favorite color. I glanced at the smiley-face clock that sat on my nightstand, which read “6:39 am.” I let out an aggravated sigh and began talking myself through getting up. “Okay, Annalisia, get up, you’re 16 today, hooray!”

Why did this bring me no excitement? Aren’t most people thrilled to be 16 because, finally, they are able to drive, get a car, and allowed a later curfew. Not one of these things interested me in the least. I don’t want to be sixteen, I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t want to go to school. I groaned as I sat up and put my head in my hands. My black wavy hair spilled over my face. I pushed my hair back and swung my legs off the bed in an attempt to force myself out of it. Then, I climbed up and stumbled over to my vanity which had a beautiful false marble top and was overfilling with makeup and hair products. I looked down at all of the beauty supplies asking myself why I ever bought them when I never make use of them. I shrugged and glanced into the mirror. My green eyes were puffed up with dark circles from hardly sleeping.

“How could I sleep with the nightmares I was having?” I thought to myself. Before I could even turn all the way around, my little sister, Marina, came stumbling into my room shouting, “Get up! Get up! Get up! It’s your birthday! Get up!!” I held my head in agony, as it was throbbing. This has got to be the worst headache, the worst morning, and soon to be the worst day. “Please leave so I can get ready, Marina,” I asked her politely.

I strolled out to the kitchen at about 6:45. I had about 20 minutes before I had to start walking to school. My mom grabbed me and forced me into a hug. “Good morning, babygirl! Awe, my baby is all grown up; let me look at you,” she said while her eyes began tearing up. I stepped back and started looking down at myself. I was wearing my favorite Bon Jovi T-shirt, which was tucked into a pair of my favorite skinny blue jeans. I turned my toes together as I looked down at my black mid-calf boots. Yes, it was March and warm out, but, man, I loved these boots.

I noticed her peering at my hair, which was pulled back in a French braid. She didn’t like when I put my hair up; she prefers it dangling all over the place blinding me. I also had a tiny bit of makeup on just some eyeliner and lip gloss. I could tell by her facial expression that she didn’t approve of it, but she just tilted her head to the left ever so slightly, the way she does when annoyed, and smiled and again repeating happy birthday.

She moved towards the dining room and summoned me into a seat. Then, she placed a massive breakfast in front of me. I stared down at the mountain of food with anxiety. “Am I expected to eat all of this?” I asked myself. Then, I took the fork and pushed around some berries, ate a sausage link, took a bite of the pancakes, and realized what time it was. “Sorry, Mom, it’s 7:10; I’m going to be late for school if I don’t leave now,” I said as I grabbed my bag and made my way out the door.