I just lay there, exhausted. Maybe..I should get to sleep. It's still dark out, the sun too shy to peek over the horizon. All of a sudden, the timed light on my porch goes out.
Makes sense, you haven't moved for the last couple hours. Before the accident happened, I used to always be doing something. "If only I had at least a quarter of that work ethic now.." I groan, rolling from my back to the side, now facing the wall. Even in the moonlight, I can see it.
A little scribble on the wall, neon red crayon, by the one and only 4 year old me. Wait..what time is it? Sitting up, stretching, and rubbing my eyes, I risk a glance to the window. Yellow-orange haze outlines the city, preparing for the day to come. I only got 5 hours of sleep last night...how perfectly spectacular, good job, me. But, it is my fault. After all, who else could it be, in this deserted, chaotic world? It's only you, don't pout about it. And with that, I turn over once again and nod to sleep, overtired and done with today already.
A couple hours later, I woke up abruptly, my stomach forcing me to pay attention. Fine, I'll get food soon, just give me a couple minutes and you'll be satisfied. I lie to my stomach, knowing all too well that it's going to take me 2 hours, minimum. Dragging myself back into consciousness, I take in a deep breath of my apartment's overused air. The hazy mist and fog covering the city at 11:00 am might be pretty, but I'm pretty sure it's toxic. As I step up, I yank my personal gas mask off the wall, mustyness included. When was the last time I used this? I try to remember, thinking back. "Must've been a couple Tuesdays ago." I remark. Sliding it on reluctantly, I head over to my kitchen to grab supplies. One butter knife, my fists, and being deathly afraid of getting hurt. All of the best things to have today. My mind comments sarcastically. Stuffing all the stuff inside my backpack, I get ready for the day, walking over to my almost shattered makeup mirror. Not mine, my..mum's. Grabbing a thin black ponytail from my jean pocket, I tie up my shoulder length dark brown hair into a low pony. At least I ttl keep the hair out of my face. If it stays in, that is. Then, I take a risk to look at myself. I dont look like the preeteen guy I was before, more grown up at least.And wearing some post-apocalyptic gas mask. Although, I could use a growth spurt, even if 5 '6 is good for now. Opening one of my (extremely cluttered) sock drawers, I snatch a gray tank top and slide it on, no patience needed. "One jacket to go" I remind myself, thinking of our weirdly always lukewarm weather. Finally finished the "oh so tiring" process of getting ready, I lock the door and exit my apartment silently.
(THIS IS ONLY THE FIRST DRAFT< ERRORS WILL BE FIXED AND THERE WILL BE ADDED DETAIL IN THE FINAL VERS.)
