Just 280 Days

Sunday May 22nd
The beautiful morning sun had just peeked up over the pastel painted clouds. The pale moon could still be seen in the bright, blue, beautiful sky and the cool, fresh wind made me feel calm and yet so cold. The fragrance of freshly picked roses and other strong scented flowers, ran down the empty streets and started dancing in the wind.
Today was my father's birthday and I had just bought him a bouquet of fresh bright, red roses. I always had the tendency of forgetting, so today i wrote it down so I could remember. The smell of freshly cut grass and petrol fumes mixed in my nose as I walked along the lonely grey, stone path.
I soon came to a stop and disregarded the fact that no one was around and I placed the roses down on the slightly damp grass and kneed down in front of the headstone. Roses were my father's favourite flower, especially the red ones, something about them made him feel nostalgic. The wind rushed down my neck and down my arms leaving goose bumps like a trail behind it. I could never really understand the feeling my Dad got from the flowers. When I tried to understand all I could think of was the great big scar she left behind. I don't remember much about my mom, all I could remember was she was so cynical and never really cared for us. So I guess, after all this time, the nostalgic feeling was the time my Mom was still around, roses were her favourite flower and Dad use tho always buy them for her, well, before they broke-up.
The brightly coloured memorial flowers all around where a beautiful sight but also a sad one to behold. Today my father would have been thirty-seven but he was killed in a driving occurrence about two years ago,from now. A few weeks before hand, it may have been a month, he and my Mom had and argument and she left in rage. He was destroyed after that, I saw him with his hands covering his face, tears streaming from his eyes and I was only twelve-years-old. It was a sight I can never forget.
The night after he came back heavily drunk. This seemed to happen every night, he would leave at about seven o'clock and come back late and drunk. It kept happening every night, until one day he didn't come back. It was on my thirteenth birthday and my father never came back to me. He was the only family I had left and I never saw my mother again after the night she walked out, she left me all alone. Deep down I really hated her because of all the pain she caused me and Dad, I never wanted to see her again and the good thing was, I never would. No one ever wanted to help me and they never have.
I started down the same path again, the wind started to pick up and the icy cold rain started to fall. I hadn't brought an umbrella with me so I just let the rain destroy me. There was no one around, and the roads where completely empty. Expect for the large jet black funeral car that sat outside the icy silver gates. No one sat inside of it, the car was just left all alone. I carried on walking home, I had to walk under the newly bloomed, beautiful cherry blossoms. The wind rushed past and the trees causing the blossom to fall like rain. I just stopped, and stood still. I watched the blossoms fall down, slowly. The wind was responsible for the music in the trees and the reason the cherry blossoms fell. I started to walk again, hands in pockets, home once again.

Monday May 23rd
The sun was shining more than ever and the smell of burnt toast ran throughout the house.
"Crap!"
I ran as fast as a cheater after its pray, down the stairs and straight into the kitchen with my school stuff trailing behind me. The smoke alarm in the kitchen started to beep, it probably woke up the neighbours too, it left the house in a huge loud mess. I quickly grabbed the burning hot toast and threw it straight into the bin, I grabbed a cold glass of water and poured it into the bin, over the burnt toast. And to deal with the fire alarm I took a towel off the side and wafted the smoke away from the alarm. And then I grabbed a chair and turned the alarm off so it didn't go off again. The books from my bag fell out so I threw my bag down on kitchen floor, in anger. I slowly walked to the kitchen sink placed my hands either side off it and I splashed my face with some cool water and took a minute to calm my self down. The anxiety, of going back to school, was catching up with me. I had been off of school for almost two weeks now and it was about time to be going back to school. I looked up at the clock, that hung above the window, to checked the time and I was already late by seven minutes. I grabbed all my school equipment and shoved it back into my bag and set of for school.
Iran down the same dull path as usual, over the bridge and through the trees, up the dull path to school. It took me about twenty minutes to get there but i was quicker than yesterday. Yesterday it took me about half an hour to get to school which was quite a long time.
Classes were as boring as usual, school was as boring as usual. Just as difficult and destructive as always. I always managed messed up everything and everyone could see my mistake. And it would turn into them taking the piss out of me, even more so.
I slowly opened the wooden door, trying not to draw attention to myself, but everyone managed to noticed me anyway. I just kept my head down and quickly flew to my desk quietly. My desk was located just next to the window, all alone in the coiner. My plan was to just sit and look out of the window, not paying attention for the hole lesson just as I always did.
I hated school, no one talked to me or even went near me. To be honest I preferred to be left alone. I could get on by my own with no ones help. At school I got treated as if I wasn't even human. I wish a miracle would help me.
But miracles don't exist.

Still to be completed.