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vollmusThe worst dream ever after the worst day ever. Fitting, I guess.
It's July 2006. I am packing two beautiful trunks for my trip to France with my French teacher and a bunch of my friends in French. When I finish, we head off to the airport.
The flight is delayed. We decide to go home and wait until the airport calls us. While reading in my bed, I fall asleep.
I wake up much later. I panic when I realize how long I slept, thinking I might have missed the flight. I race downstairs.
No one is looking at me. I gasp. My mom finally tells me that I missed the flight. They have decided that the trip was costing too much money, and not worth it. I yell at her that this was what my life had been leading up to. My dad yells at me to stop yelling, that the rest of the family has all agreed on this.
I run back upstairs and start moving things aimlessly around my floor. When I'm about to cry, I decide that it's not worth it to be angry with them, that my mom will comfort me. I go back downstairs, slowly this time.
I sit next to my mom and lean against her. I ask them to tell me again why exactly I couldn't go on the trip. My dad starts out this time, sounding terribly mocking. My French teacher had called and said that there would be a meeting at the airport at seven, and that she would bring the other chaperone with her. My dad says that she could either bring the nice student teacher with her, or her girlfriend. Her girlfriend would probably bring the baby, that stupid child. Terrible people.
I gasp again. You mean I'm not on my way to France right now because you have a problem with my favorite teacher? You mean cost has nothing to do with this? I hate you! I hate you!
When I woke up, I had tears in my eyes and all down my face.
It's July 2006. I am packing two beautiful trunks for my trip to France with my French teacher and a bunch of my friends in French. When I finish, we head off to the airport.
The flight is delayed. We decide to go home and wait until the airport calls us. While reading in my bed, I fall asleep.
I wake up much later. I panic when I realize how long I slept, thinking I might have missed the flight. I race downstairs.
No one is looking at me. I gasp. My mom finally tells me that I missed the flight. They have decided that the trip was costing too much money, and not worth it. I yell at her that this was what my life had been leading up to. My dad yells at me to stop yelling, that the rest of the family has all agreed on this.
I run back upstairs and start moving things aimlessly around my floor. When I'm about to cry, I decide that it's not worth it to be angry with them, that my mom will comfort me. I go back downstairs, slowly this time.
I sit next to my mom and lean against her. I ask them to tell me again why exactly I couldn't go on the trip. My dad starts out this time, sounding terribly mocking. My French teacher had called and said that there would be a meeting at the airport at seven, and that she would bring the other chaperone with her. My dad says that she could either bring the nice student teacher with her, or her girlfriend. Her girlfriend would probably bring the baby, that stupid child. Terrible people.
I gasp again. You mean I'm not on my way to France right now because you have a problem with my favorite teacher? You mean cost has nothing to do with this? I hate you! I hate you!
When I woke up, I had tears in my eyes and all down my face.
