Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
Frustration is the best way to break out of an old, old shell. Written when my internet was down for 14 hours.
Amy stared at the overhead clock; it read 3:30 PM. She sighed and stared at her computer, and walked over to it. Sitting down, she opened up her browser and waited for her homepage to load.
PAGE LOAD ERROR.
“Damnit!” She pounded her fist on the desk, causing the glass of water next to her computer to rattle in protest. Amy stood up and wrung her hands agitatedly. Her internet went down at two in the morning and has not established connection ever since. She had tried unplugging her router and letting it cool for two hours before reconnecting; she tried the ‘repair’ option; she tried doing the diagnosis, and still her internet was still out of service.
Great, what do I do now? She had been out of touch with all her old friends and classmates, even with her family. Occasionally her mother or her brother would call to ask how she was doing, how was job, what happened to her boyfriend (She often pretended to have one and get dumped the next time they checked)…etc.
As for her job, she was fired last week after they decided to hire employees that were more experienced. She didn’t blame them, she often made mistakes and asked a lot of questions in the first few weeks, but apparently, that week was already a matter of ‘hire or fire’, she just managed to get the boot.
Sighing, she trudged to the bathroom and looked at herself. If she told anyone that she was only 27, they would act surprised and say they thought she was in her mid-thirties. Letting out a feral growl at her reflection, she whipped out a pair of scissors, and started to fill the sink with water. “So what if I’m unemployed? I’m completely freelance now aren’t I? I get to start over again…” Muttering angrily to herself, she looked at herself in the mirror again. She scoffed at the bedraggled hair and the overly pale skin. What a sorry sight…
She twisted the faucet to stop the water. Tentatively, she dipped her finger in the pool she had made; the water was freezing cold. Inhaling deeply, she dunked her head into the water.
Immediately, she had the fleeting sensation of being plunged head first into Artic waters. So this is what a popsicle feels like? She thought numbly. Pulling her head out after a few seconds, she gasped for air. Panting slightly as if she just woke up from a horrible dream, she gazed around the bathroom, a glint in her eyes as if she just had a sudden sense of clarity.
Chuckling, she looked at her dripping wet reflection and smiled shyly through her limp, wet hair. Leaning back, she laughed hysterically, and shook her head like a dog ridding its ears of water.
Raising up the scissor to the first lock of hair, she looked at her reflection, and gave a wry grin. “A toast to you, my loser friend.” She said, and made the cut.