Morning Rebellion versus morning self-pity

The strong obsession with ForeverFriends bears she suddenly remembered. The love for the soft fur and peach toes and palms of the toy. Strange, she thought. An obsession with something although she was never considered back one of the BFF's. Never part of it. Never a need to purchase such a sign of eternal friendship arose. Just some pocket-money saving and buying matching half-hearts, just in case. (what the fuck was wrong with her? what a miserable and moronically dramatic kid.)

Shame, the sunray whispered, as it touched her freckles trough the frosty bathroom window.
Shame, she sighed, as she selected her toothbrush, preparing it for the two wet drops to start the morning ritual.

She looked in the mirror. Winked once. What if I rebel? Put my socks inside out, apply my makeup wrongly, eat the burnt crumbs instead of toast, pour tea over the doormat, break my pass, hide my keys in the house before i leave, stand still for a little too long, without any excuse, or any reason. Be late. Be odd. Be free. She winked again. (God, winking without smiling looks like a brain malfunction.) Would that be freedom? A free world, but frankly there doesn't seem to be any way of doing all this without an excuse such as adjustment issues or a breakdown or extreme lactose sensitivity.

Fuck this, I'll just go commando. Attribute everything to sexual mischief. She put on her flowery rain hat and picked up her keys and went to work.