For once in my life, I think it would be splendid if my motherfucking web browser would open in less than the time it takes to say "I hate you" one hundred times. I mean, it's Google -motherfucking- Chrome; it needs to stop acting like Internet Explorer. Alas, here I was, waiting for it to load. This is precisely why I never shut down my laptop for updates; so shit like this doesn't happen.
I sighed and ran my hands through my unruly dark hair and rubbed my face. I was so tired. It was five in the morning and I was sitting in front of my laptop all alone because my phone thought it was a good idea to wake me up at four AM. And I would have smashed my shiny new S3 if my alarm tune hadn't been an Ed Sheeran song. It took me long enough to get myself out of bed, eat, and get in my school uniform, and now I had two hours to kill before I had to catch the bus.
Eventually, the browser decided to open and I opened up my blog and wrote a post complaining about the little bitch that was Google Chrome. Needless to say, not one of my four hundred followers gave a shit. I decided to pass the rest of the time reblogging funny text posts and crying but not actually crying about my favorite TV shows.
I groaned when I realized that it was seven AM. Groggily, I tried smoothing down my hair and putting on my sneakers at the same time. I jogged out of my room, slurring a couple of "Good mornings" to my family members who were finally awake.
"Take care, sweetie!" my mom yelled as I shut the apartment door on my way out.
I rubbed my eyes, which stung either because I was drowsy, or because I kept rubbing them. One, two. One, two. I chanted as I made myself go down the stairs as quickly as I could.
A headache began to form between my temples and I brought my hand that wasn't rubbing my eyes to massage my head. I guess I should have used the time I spent blogging to get some rest. I just felt like utter crap.
My backpack strap was slipping off my shoulder now. I shrugged, trying to put it back up, but to no avail. Deciding to give my eye-rubbing hand a break, I adjusted the strap.
I don't know when exactly during all this that I missed a step on the staircase, but it must have been near the end and most likely before I tripped on my untied shoe laces. The funny thing is that I didn't really realize I was falling until the very last moment. The whole time, all I could think about was how bad the pain in my head was and how uncomfortable my bag strap felt in the nook of my elbow. It never even crossed my mind that something terrible was happening to me.
Yes, it is an OC story. No, I don't have any originality.