Limonene |H. S.|

3. sick things

I hadn't done anything spectacular to myself. Let's not underestimate how much I like to dress up and play with makeup, I was truly a fan of it, but I wasn't as enthralled by the concept when today's events included someone that I never planned for. Quite the opposite, actually, if it were up to me, I'd have worn whatever colonial gals were wearing back in the day, just to spite my dad and his pimp fantasy.

Precisely for this, I was taking longer than usual to 'get ready', which of course translated to me wasting time on my phone whilst sprawled out on my bed. The days since Adam's unbecoming proposition, things around this house have been tense, to say the least.

Tuesday consisted of my mother yelling and crying and overall fighting with anyone who crossed her line of sight, she was beyond angry at both my dad for insinuating and me for accepting. And whenever I tried to defend myself and tell her he'd threatened to not give me a car for my birthday, he'd stare me down until my lips sealed themselves shut. So for technical purposes, I was as much to blame as he was.

Wednesday I pondered telling Lennon about the absolute madness my dad's been getting involved in lately, but I always ended up biting my tongue and reminding myself that not everything that goes on in your life must be shared, even if it's your lifelong best friend. Wednesday was also the day my mom lied to me about watching a sitcom and instead put some mafia series on the tv, asking me if this is what I wanted for myself. She only grew angrier when I laughed it off, hoping she was joking.

And today, Thursday, has been some kind of a roller-coaster. It started off well, I suppose, with a cold morning that made me punch the idea of riding my bike to school right out of orbit, instead I double layered my sweaters and cursed the school for its unnecessarily large windows that made it feel like the freezing temperatures were creeping in under the glass. Halfway through the day, I paid a hasty visit to the school nurse when my nose suddenly decided it wanted to start leaking blood right before sociology. After arriving home, the sudden burst of warmth hit my face like a sock full of rocks, almost immediately unleashing a series of events I'd associate to the prodromes of a flu; watering and swelling eyes, nasal voice, a building headache and a growing ache in my bones. Luckily, a couple of pills managed to control the symptoms before anything worsened.

Now I lay here, fingers continuously popping grapes into my mouth as I stare at the ceiling and overthink simple things. There was nothing about today that would've had me on edge any other day. The cold was to be expected, it's January. Nosebleeds have always been frequent to me, just another clinical sign of my Von Willebrand disease. The flu? Not so uncommon or alarming when you fluctuate between hot and cold temperatures. It was all very simple, see? Pretty explanatory and uninteresting.

What I could not scientifically prove is the reason for this sudden rush of nerves I'm feeling. It's unwanted and annoying, there's no common sense found in the way my stomach has been turning ever since I woke up this morning and knew what would happen today. This wave of unease and frustration had a name, a five letter word that's only managed to anger me since the moment it was introduced in the first place.

The root of these disturbing, murky weeds growing around my body is actually what hauled me out of bed, the sound of a loud engine too unfamiliar on a street like this. My curiosity had gotten the best of me, calling me to stand in front of my window, peering between spaces of visibility, where it became clear who this was. All suspicions confirmed, the not so infamous Harry Styles is exactly the person that climbs out of a car that could easily be worth more than my medical insurance.

He looks casual and laid back, as if he's come to pick up a friend and not a seventeen year old who has way better things to do than entertain him for the night. Much like my own jeans, his are also black, though not as tight fitted I guess, and while he wears a white shirt under his black jacket, I decided on a dark green knit sweater, with signature bishop sleeves that I quite possibly am in love with.