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- THEREFORE I AM - Act one, prologue: Off day.
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Arryn had always hated when her parents referred to her less than lively days, as 'off days'. It was such a simple explanation for such a broad feeling. It was weak in comparison to the strength of her emotions on those days.
Where Arryn felt an all consuming sense of dread and an overwhelming urge to tear the very earth apart in search of some peace, her mother saw it as teenage hormones. Arryn was dramatic, she'd say, that every teenager feels like that at her age.
Yet Arryn wouldn't wish whatever was wrong with her upon anyone. Maybe Steve Harrington, but that was about it and only because he still has her favourite pen and it's been two years.
For the fifth day in a row, Arryn finds herself stuck in one of those 'off days.'
Arryn sits in front of her mirror, a miscellaneous collection of makeup in front of her. Most of the cosmetics were gifted. The moment she turned fifteen, it was all anyone thought to get her. She hadn't expressed any interest in the area, but teen girls like makeup and Arryn wasn't exactly an easy person to buy presents for.
The lipsticks sit in a line at the very base of her mirror, foundation to her right and eyeliner to her left. Whatever the other things were, sat in between the other neatly organised stacks.
If Arryn had any sense, she supposes this would be classed as an identity crisis.
Because the person staring back at her, isn't someone she's exactly happy with. Her face looks more uneven the longer she stares at it, and the eye bags keep getting bigger. It isn't exactly like she's disgusted with herself, just that there's something about her, something so frustratingly particular that she can't stand, and yet she has no idea what it is.
She thought perhaps the makeup could be of some use, that if she could restructure the very forefront of her existence, something would slide into place and she'd get a damn break. However the more Arryn layered on the foundation, the more she applied (rubbed out and then reapplied) her eyeliner, the less better she felt.
Arryn groans and throws the eyeliner at her mirror. She's thankful it doesn't crack but the liquid spills over her blue carpet, seeping through the tendrils of fabric. She lets slip a string of curses and grabs a sock from the pile at the foot of her bed she's yet to pair up. She dabs it over the stain, cautious as to not spread the stain further. It does little to help, but at least the eyeliner is mostly on her scruffy sock than on the carpet she bought last week.
Arryn tightens the cap properly this time, twisting it enough so that she knows the next time she wants to open it, she'll have to ask her uncle to do it for her. She stuffs the rest in a spare pencil case she'd found under her desk, careful to avoid the glass foundation jars clinking together too much. She leaves the case beside her mirror, hoping she remembers later to put it away properly.
