I was having a similar afternoon and I thought I'd cure my foul mood by writing about it. It did in fact help which just proves that writing is better than therapy. And cheaper. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't anything associated with JONAS.
Everything was too loud. Too loud and she couldn't fathom why someone would need to make so much noise. She buried her head into her pillow and scrunched up her eyes. 'Too loud.' She thought savagely. She curled her body up fetal-position, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying with all her might to push away the headache forming at the base of her skull.
With a pitiful cry ripping her throat, she threw the covers off her body. She was wide awake now. Because of the fucking noises.
She stretched her toes, feeling the frustration bubbling up underneath her skin like a fever she couldn't control. Not with a cold shower or heavy medication. It was going to be there until it wanted to go away. She prayed that it'd be soon. She wouldn't take this slowly simmering anger. It'd explode with the lightest word thrown at her with a happy tone. She couldn't face anyone right now. She'd probably scare them off with the insults she'd spit at them.
She grabbed too fistfuls of hair with her fingers and pulled them until she could feel that pain. It was distracting, but only up to a point.
She paced now. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down her open room. There was a neighbor mowing the lawn. Damn machine. There was an electrician working the cables in the house in front. Fucking whistling. And her mom was preparing lunch downstairs with the radio on. Son of a bitch. The radio. Not her mom. She daren't insult her mother.
She crouched in the middle of her room and held her breath for god knows long. The noise was now a mere hum in her head. But the pounding of the headache and the blood in her body were just making their presence known more profoundly. She breathed again, and very deeply because she didn't know how long she hadn't.
She was panting now. The colors in her room were aggravating and the texture of her shirt was starting to irritate her. 'Should I take it off?' She questioned herself and felt like she was going crazy. 'Or maybe I already am.' She wryly thought when she realized the position she was in.
Sprawled out on the carpeted floor of her room, contemplating removing her garments off. 'I'm going insane.' She whined to herself.
She plugged an index finger each to both ears and waited. It only muted the sounds a bit, but she could still definitely hear them. She tried humming but that only tired her and her arms were beginning to cramp.
With an exasperated sigh, she set her arms down roughly. Pulling her knees up, and holding her legs in midair, she examined them. She didn't take anything in, just looked at them. Round toenails, green nail-polish, smooth skin, skinny ankles.
Maybe if she yelled? No. That'd just make her mother suspicious and then she'd come up and ask if anything was wrong.
What exactly was wrong? She'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, that was. And now she couldn't rid herself of the irritation every small thing brought.
She closed her eyes once again and cleared her mind forcefully. Tears began to leak from the edges of her eyes but she wasn't crying. No, it was the annoyance of everything.
She didn't move anymore, just breathed until that action calmed her down. But it didn't.
She waited, though. For what-she had no idea.
A few minutes passed. Then a half hour. Her mother called up for her to eat. She didn't respond.
Two hours passed and she was surprised her mom hadn't gone upstairs to check on her. She shrugged.
She heard some shuffling on the floor below her room. She thought she could hear her mom talking with someone. She didn't recognize the voice.
A frown was deeply etched on her face and she was ready for anyone that came in. Her mood hadn't improved, but at least it hadn't worsened.
A couple of minutes lapsed and she started to hum some tune. There were steps now, up to her room, she knew.
The steps hesitated a bit before continuing their path to her door. They stopped. A knock.
Macy rushed up and stood defensively, glaring at the piece of wood with a knob. She was fuming now. Another knock.
She handled the knob and threw the door open. She opened her mouth to speak(yell was more like it) but stopped when she saw exactly who was standing before her.
Her skin cooled down and her face heated, but she broke out into a grin.
Bad feelings gone.
"Hey Nick. What brings you by?" She asked, as sweetly as she was known for, with a grin that threatened to overtake her whole face.
He took in her overly bubbly demeanor and gulped.
The ending sucks, I admit, but I couldn't find anything that would make it better. I liked it though. I hope you did too.