"Sloth is defined as spiritual or emotional apathy, neglecting what authoritative people have said, and being physically and emotionally inactive."
I loved the feeling of the soft blanket around my body. It made me feel so warm and safe. I almost never wanted to leave my bed – some days I do not bother and just stayed there until the next one came. Being a foreigner in the wonderful country of England was hard at first because there were some people who do not like me just because I was not English. I had no energy to deal with them myself; like most things I just let it happen. I just take an interest in things that I absolutely must – and even then it is a struggle.
However, I made friends quickly with six other girls in my class and although they are slightly different than I'm used to, I feel like 'one of the gang.' I think they like me but they want me to spend more time with them. They say I'm not active enough, and that I should go to more places. I think they are only too English. Mom tells me the same thing, so I'm not sure my friends are talking out of the reason. It's strange because I have always preferred to do nothing the whole day and sleep rather than go out – even to a place I really like. I just do not seem to have energy to do things.
"Constantine! Time to wake up," says Mom, pulling the covers away from me. I hate my name. I did not use to back in Curdovia but here in England everyone's name is so simple. My last name sounds so foreign to the register next to the 'Jenson' and 'Krill'. Constantine Koslushonen. A couple of my classmates had giggled when they heard my name first, but after I made friends, they gave me the nickname 'Slush'. I liked it much better than Constantine and then everyone in school started calling me Slush. My family still call me by my real name though.
I ignored my mother and tried to go back to sleep. She did not have any of it and shook me until I was forced to open my eyes. I looked at her for a good three minutes before rubbing in my face and yawned.
"Mmm, what time is it?" I asked sleepily. I was not surprised to hear that it was in the afternoon: I often slept late into the day. Mom did not look happy with me at all and gave me a list of chores to do, warning me that if I did not do it when she came back from shopping I would be in big trouble. Then she was gone and I was all alone in the apartment. Dad went to work ridiculously early in the morning and I had no siblings so it was just me. I thought about going back to bed, but I did not think my mother would be glad for it so instead I went to the kitchen to eat breakfast – well, lunch. I took my time to eat, enjoying every mouthful before brushing my teeth. I did not bother to get changed out of my pyjamas to get started on the chores. I did not see the point.
As I struggled to drag the vacuum out of the closet, I heard the unmistakable sound of my mobile phone ring. The song was number one in Curdovia and reminded me of home, which saddened me. That's when I realized that I had to find my phone before it rang out. I left the vacuum cleaner and followed the sound of music until I discovered my phone in between the cushions on the sofa. I picked it up and responded quickly.
"Hello?"
"About time! I've been calling you for ages, Slush! Did you just get up?" It was one of my friends from school. She was probably even my best friend. I apologized profusely and asked her if everything was in order. She sighed.
"No, actually." Her voice was sad. "My boyfriend broke up with me and I feel just awful." I said nothing as she ranted on about her boyfriend and how he does not understand her. I sat on the couch and relaxed; just let my friend spill her feelings to me. She went on about what had happened: she had been angry about something else and said mean things to him which got on his nerves, so he dumped her. It was not very nice of him. I let my friend talk to me for ages; she did not even notice that I hardly spoke. Most I added to the conversation was 'oh really' and 'go on'. I just could not seem to get into the conversation emotionally; I felt that I was not really a part of it. My friend were not deterred and continued to spill her heart out, regardless of my poor response. I guess that she probably felt good to get things off her chest and I did not interrupt her, she was able to talk as much as she wanted. It was the most likely cause of we were such good friends. She loved to talk and I listened to everything.
"Do you think...Do you think he'll want me back? I really do love him." Her voice was smaller now and I could imagine her looking worried.
"Do not be afraid. He will take you back because he loves you!" I said. I did not say that it would be nice; I said it because it was the truth. My friend breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks Slush. Are you still coming later?" I confirmed that I was and we said our goodbye. I checked the clock and found that I had two hours before I had to meet up with everyone else. I found out that it left just enough time for me to squeeze in a short nap, and got comfortable on the couch.
I woke up to a woman shouting at me. It was my mother. With a start I realized that she had asked me to do chores today and I had done none of them. I felt incredibly guilty and hung my head in shame when she yelled at me for always being so disobedient. I tried to tell her about my friend is upset and how I felt so tired but Mom did not hear a word I had to say: I was a shame in her eyes. She threatened to send me back to Curdovia! I told her not to, I loved England and it was too early for me to leave. When Mom told me that I was on the grounded for one week I had to convince her to at least allow me to leave the house today to see my friends. I think Mom just let me go because I told her it was an English tradition – Mom loved English traditions.
After a while, my mom calmed down and confessed that she had wondered if I had a mild case of chronic fatigue syndrome, as one of our neighbours (who was a doctor) had suggested a couple of days ago. I agreed to see our GP later this week with her to find out if I really had the illness, but I did not care anyway. If I did then I'd probably be given some pills that made me stop being so tired and if I do not then I would have to continue as normal. It was not something to be excited about. Moreover, it was down to how I felt on the day the appointment and I had a feeling I'll be much happier in bed. Why should I bother to leave the house when I could sleep?
My mother warned me that if I did not hurry then I would not be ready in time to meet my friends. I knew that I should be rushing to get changed, but I had no energy so I settled to go to my normal pace. It was a shame that my normal speed was a normal person's slow pace. Ah well, my friends knew how I was and will excuse my lateness. It was not that big of a deal.