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The days are dragging into May and the March Hare is getting restless. I'm getting antsy because I'm waiting for tea time and it isn't coming. White breezes flit through eyelet curtains in the dining room. Breathy voices ask for cola. The kitchen sink has started dripping.

I thought that being a teenager would happen when I turned thirteen. When it didn't, I assumed that I had missed a cutoff date and that It would occur on my sixteenth birthday. It has been two weeks and I can assure you that I feel no more different than when I was fifteen and when I was fourteen and when I was thirteen. Time isn't necessarily a strict progression of cause to effect.

The milk on the dining room table has started to sweat under the pressure and unbearable heat. It will confess soon. Whole milk, in the dining room, with the candlestick. I think that I'm clever. I'm playing bored games and twiddle my thumbs while I wait for the tree branches to brace themselves. Braces are a silly thing to want, because they will make the early teenage years that I'm not entire sure constitute teenage years awkward. I'm awkward. The branches crack and snap and fall and we're lucky nobody was beneath them.

I want to whisper apologies to you because I'm sorry and I'm so sorry. Your name comes up in conversation more than I want it to and I don't know how to react. I try to not let my sidelong glances get in the way, but he told me that I looked beautiful when I had felt so nervous.  Being friends hurts more sometimes than a tree branch might. I lack courage. Maybe I am a teenager after all.

Feelings get hurt but that's the way it always is. I'll be okay because I always am. I say that it's heartbreak but I'm too young to know that I have a heart. Still, something twangs in my chest and I can't breathe right. I wonder if I should tell a doctor about that. I decide against it because I don't really want to hear your prognosis.

I lift a cup of tea to my lips but it isn't mine so I put it down on the table and stare at it accusingly. It trembles in the light and under the scrutiny of my gaze, because it is Earl Grey with milk and no sugar. I drink Green. This is not my cup of tea.
A short piece about general life at the moment. Written for my spring english class, during our memoir week. I've got one other that I'm contemplating uploading.

and some notes on this piece: yes, bored games is spelled correctly.
enchantma Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2010  Professional Digital Artist
Oooh! Nice! I really like the last line!
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Submitted on
May 2, 2010
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