Waving goodbye to your mother, the one who cared for you for 15 years, you step outside to the frosty cold. You are glad your mother was so pre-emptive and told you to wear your coat, otherwise you would not have noticed the cold until you were too far away from home to return and retrieve it.
You tug at your skirt, the disgusting polyester is prone to rising, you do not understand why they force you to wear this dreadful uniform all week. You would probably learn better in the comfort of your own clothes. You were lucky with the colours, a simple black skirt and mauve jumper. The white shirt and black shoes were the same for every school, but they did not get off that lightly with the colours of the remainder of their uniform. Although after years of being forced to be confined in this attire, really it is no better than the rest.
The late November winds blow through your hair as you make your way through the streets. The previously brown and orange spotted streets are now clear, and covered in a faint sprinkle of frost. However you have stopped paying notice to the change in seasons, the surrounding have become a blur of colour. Each day, the same. You have grown tired of the routine. You go to school, write down notes with your hand as you mind is in a place not even you know of, return home, then sleep. Everything in between doesn't even matter and you begin to wonder if even the main parts of you daily routine matter as well, I mean, after all what do you wake and go to school for? To pass some tests in order to learn some more so that you can get a job that allows you to do something that you believe to be meaningful and accomplish something so that when you die you feel like you were not just another wasted life? You could so easily cut out the middle part, just stop this meaningless story of life that always ends in death, everything always does- No. Stop. You are rambling again and you know you're ramblings are a slippery slope down to insanity.
You do, however, wonder what details you have been missing while you were so preoccupied with your routine, it makes you slightly uncomfortable to think that there are events that you were missing, how did this happen, you were always such an alert person, you always loved routine. A blessing in disguise you mumble.
Speaking of details, as you were preoccupied with the thoughts scattered in you brain you hardly notice the girl you are approaching. Golden hair pushed back by a simple black headband, allowing some of it to curl in a frame her face oh so well. Faint freckles dotted her pale skin, and a delicate pink scarf wrapped around her neck. You recognise her, that inquisitive look and almost purple eyes, however your thoughts are interrupted by a voice you recognise instantly.
You spin round to face the source of the noise, you dark red hair hitting your face, despite the short length you keep it at. There she stands, Vriska Serket, the girl you have the honour of calling your best friend. You know very well of how malicious she can be, most of the time you witness it first hand, sometimes her venom is even directed at you, but you do not care, she is still the girl which you have doted on for so long, the girl which you have laid all of your affection upon. The girl whom you have cried over time and time again as she finds someone to call her own. Someone that is not you. But why would she be with you anyway, what would she want from a girl, especially a girl like you. You pull yourself out of this train of thought for the second time this morning, you promised yourself you would not do that again, but how can you not without removing the ability to think entirely? Letting out a soft sigh, you make your way over to your friend, her happiness normally means the worst for your feelings, you have come to realise this but still you carry on. You cannot break free from the routine.