Woke Up Like This

by Amy Lea

Don’t you want to enjoy life? Live a little instead of stressing about things you can’t control?” She says it like it’s an easy choice not to stress. Like I can just opt out on a whim.

“Hate to break it to you, but adulthood is just a never-ending cycle of chores, obligations, googling how to fix stuff, and spending money on things you hate. Like sponges and dish detergent.”

“My point is, I spend half the time pretending to know what I’m doing, and the other half ignoring all my problems and hoping they’ll disappear. Spoiler alert: they do not.

I’m the tertiary character. The overachieving mom-friend who takes care of everyone in the background but does zero to advance the plot.

It’s like all the pent-up anger has boiled up inside me, and now it’s overflowing like lava, splattering in salty tears off my knees. And while I know my anger and disappointment are valid, those feelings now feel unfair. Unjust. I guess it’s hard to be mad at a dead guy.

I’ll admit, there’s a lot in this world that brings me displeasure. But running is somewhere at the top of that list.

After seventeen years, I’ve finally discovered the secret to running. Anger and turmoil.

It’s strange to think that all of high school is a way of preparing to leave it all behind.