The morning sun warmed my face as it crept through my window, stirring me awake. It was my favorite way to wake up. A lazy smile stretched onto my face as I slowly got out of bed. "Morning" I heard my mother call to me as I walked into the kitchen. It was small and cramped with little to no space but my mom always seemed to make due. The small room never seemed to lessen her creativity. "what's for breakfast?" I asked as I pulled I a stool. "stewed sea prunes" she said, waving her hand over the bowl proudly. Five mushy blobs could be seen bobbing in a dark, thick, dreadful smelling liquid. "It's a traditional water tribe dish." I looked at the lackluster "food" apprehensively. "Actually, I'm starting this new diet today and..." I never finished my sentence because I was quickly out the door before my mom could rebuttal.

Fresh air filled my head like perfume, and put me in a dizzying mood. Swaying side to side, I walked up the hill that was next to my house. Like many hills on the island, it over looked the ocean. So, I guess there was nothing special about it. It wasn't the tallest hill or the greenest, but in my mind, it was the most beautiful place in the world, and the perfect place to draw. When I reached the top, it was like the whole world opened. Crystal blue water stretched across the horizon, and the crashing sound of the waves against the rocks won out any other noise. Like always, I sat down on the top of the hill, leaning against the old tree. I never could figure out what kind of tree it was but it didn't seem native. The knobs twisted at odd angles and the branches thinned out so much at the ends, that they bended and swayed in the breeze. Not only that, but there was a myriad of them. In some places, it was like standing under a canopy. However, in my little spot, I had a clear view of the ocean. The place where I sat was almost void of bark from all my rubbing against it. Taking in a deep breath, I pulled out my sketch pad and set to work with pen on paper. From my mouth came a nameless tune I often hummed "mmmm…mm..mm…mmmm." I stroked the page with my instrument until a pair of eyes emerged. They were large and bright, like that of a child's. The nose came next, something simple so it didn't take away from the all-around expression. I added big goofy ears, and a large infectious smile. Taking a second to stop and examine my work, I decided something was missing. I raked over my brain trying to figure out what it was but nothing seemed right. Hair seemed to take away from how unusual he looked. While leaving him bald was too plain. Frustrated, I crumpled of the drawing and threw it over the hill. I liked to imagine that I was sending the pictures to another world; it sounds much better than littering. I tried again, this time drawing a more familiar face. An awkward disposition, frizzy brown hair, buck teeth, and shy but beautiful brown eyes. An oversized robe and unfortunate pig tails topped it off; it was the spitting image of my mom when she was a girl.

One time when I was sifting through old junk we had in our attic, I came across a picture of her. When I pushed the dust off the image it revealed a scrawny, awkward looking girl. I would have never thought it was my mother, since the image was in such contrast to what she looks like now, but when I brought the picture to her she nearly tore up the thing with her teeth, and made me swear I would never show another soul. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why she was so embarrassed. Everyone had awkward teen years.

I finished the picture with a winning smile. no matter how my mom changed she still had the same comforting, loving, and bright smile. It never left her face and I admired her for it.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed I was sitting in a shadow. The trees shadow had stretched on and past the cliff. "crap" I said, gathering up my things "not again". As quickly as I could, I ran down the hill and made my way towards town.

By the time I got to town, it was already starting to get dark. The yellow shop lights illuminated the streets as the vendors shamelessly swindled the wealthy tourists. "Such a great deal nephew! Can you believe it?" I glanced to the old man going on about his new find. They were in fact beautiful but I knew for a fact that they were extremely overpriced. I didn't have time to secretly judge people though, seeing how I was running late for work. The old man and his companion disappeared into the blur of the crowd. That's just how things were here. Ember island was a huge tourist hub. People were here one day and gone the next. Sensing that my thoughts were making me doddle, I quickened my pace.

Finally, I reached it; Mondela, the crown jewel of the city. Or at least, in my eyes it was. To others, it was a simple brick building with wooden pillars, weathered by tropical storms. It was a small and modest restaurant. The only thing decorative about the outside was the beautiful stained glass windows. It wasn't fancy but it was the perfect spot for locals. Great food for a great price.

Quickly, I slipped in through the back and put on my black apron. "You're late" came a gruff beside me. I looked over to see my boss, Henry. He scratched his scraggly beard and gave me an annoyed but uncaring look. "I lost track of time" I said in an apologetic voice, giving him my most pitiful puppy dog eyes. "bah" he said, swatting the air "one day you need to get yourself a clock." I smiled, knowing I was off the hook, "will do sir." He swatted the air again as he turned to leave; he knew I was lying. When he left, I walked up to the mirror, next to the door, that led to the main room. It would take a couple of minutes for my section to fill up so I took the time to make sure I looked ok. My long black hair was pulled back into a loose bun. My pale complexion was turned rosy from running to get here at a decent time. At Mondela, there was no official uniform so I wore a simple dark green robe that hung loosely around my frame. "Decent" I decided for myself as I walked out to greet my first customer.

It was about halfway through the night when I got the signal to finish up with my last table. "You're up Asheton" Henry said as he walked past, tending to some forms. A large smile broke out on my face. The people at my table glanced at me as they were settling the check. "you leaving?" the woman question idly. She and her husband were new to the restaurant. "No" I replied, unable to keep the cheer out of my voice, "just switching jobs."

I walked back to my "dressing room", which was just the cramped employ bathroom with a cloudy mirror. Quickly, I shimmied off my robe to reveal my slightly skimpier dark green dress underneath. It too was simple in design, but the bottom fell only four inches below my knee. It hugged my body tightly and greatly enhanced my curves. Next I applied a touch of mascara. I never needed much of it since I was gifted with naturally long eyelashes but my features tended to get drowned out under those bright lights. After putting on my makeup, I stepped back, examining myself in the mirror. Large almond shaped brown eyes stared back at me. They were the only thing I had inherited from my mom. "well other than my figure" I said to myself before taking one last look.

"Almost" I said before reaching up to untie the binds of my hair. I watched with relish as it fell, tumbling down my shoulders before resting at my hips. Even when I felt my most unattractive, I always took pride in my hair. It shimmered like the night itself. It fluttered past me as I walked back into the main room and up to the stage. The "stage" was a slightly raised platform with a microphone on it and instruments for the band to use. I heard them start up as I approached. A smile played on my lips.

When I first starting doing this, I would rush to the stage eagerly, but since then I've realized that the performance didn't just start when you got on stage. It started before you got there too. You had to set an atmosphere.

Me taking my time to get to the stage allowed the audience time to direct their attention to me. The sound of utensils clanking slowly ended and I nodded to the band to start the song up.

I'm over it. You've won, I quit.

This constant war, I can't deal with it

. I'm done, no more. White flags galore.

can't bring myself to care anymore.

You were fire, you made me melt but there's nothing left but puddles you tread on.

And maybe there's still something to be felt but I can't bring myself to dredge on.

I opened my eyes to find about 30 pairs staring back at mine. I let sorrow fill them and I sang as if addressing them all.

I'm over it. You've won, I quit. This constant war, I can't deal with it

My eyebrows knitted together, and a tired look donned my features as I tried to express to the crowd; and this imaginary other person, my exhaustion and my need to be understood.

I'm done, no more. White flags galore.

can't bring myself to care anymore.

My hand reached out to point to a few of them, ensnaring their attention.

And you might think I'm over reacting.

Curling my arm up, I gripped my hair, pulling it slightly at the scalp. It stings a little but I simply let the pain slip into my performance. I look up with wide eyes to appear crazy.

And you might think I've gone insane.

But honey when I look at you, you know, it's not just the saaaaaame.

As I sang that last part, my hand left my hair and reached for the sky before falling to my side limply.

I'm over it…