Fun fact: I am in fact a nerd and almost went to the national spelling bee lmao. Look at my illiterate ass now, you wouldn't be able to tell.
This stupid ass app has been taking all my pictures down so that's fun 😋
Beyoncé's POV
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Enervated. Drained of energy or vitality. E-N-E-R-V-A-T-E-D. Enervated.
I was dragging myself down the stairs, backpack hitting each individual stair clumsily as if it was as overworked and drained as I felt. I had almost reached the bottom when mama came around the corner and stopped directly in my path.
Her hands were wrapped around both railings as if she was saying 'do not pass'.
"The word of the day is enervated, E-N-E-R-V-A-T-E-D," I said in a rehearsed way.
Everyday it was the only way she would let me come fully downstairs. At first I didn't take it seriously, until the morning I didn't look at the word of the day, hoping this was all just some cruel joke that she had forgot about, and I ended up missing the bus because she wouldn't move. She made me look at the word again, spell it for her, and then made me walk to school.
Today she stood unwavering, hands securely wrapped around the banister.
My enervated expression changed to one of confusion, "I spelled it right. I know I did."
"Excuse me, little girl. What are you wearing?" She inquired.
I looked down at my fluffy quarter-zip pullover and ripped jeans, "Um...jeans and a hoodie?"
She shook her head and pointed back upstairs.
"I know you saw the jean skirt and striped top I left on your dresser. Go put that on," she instructed, "then you are free to leave."
I let out an exasperated sigh, turned around, and began walking back up the steps. I had a sudden burst of energy from the annoyance I was feeling and couldn't wait to get out of this house.
"And you better hurry up too because I'm not driving you to school if you miss that bus! And run a comb through that hair!" She called after me as I trudged up the stairs.
With each 'thump' of my backpack hitting the stairs, I felt another pang of anger toward my mother. I rolled my eyes, not daring to do that while facing her direction. I was peeved, but I didn't have a death wish.
When I got to the top of the stairs, Solange was on her way down. I had to do a double take as she passed me, her outfit was almost identical to the one I was currently wearing, except she had on sweatpants. I was in disbelief as mama let her pass and go into the kitchen with no hurdles.
Upon entering my room, I quickly changed into the outfit that had already been laid out. Out of protest, I didn't brush my hair. Even as my mother's personal barbie doll, I demanded some degree of autonomy.
