Daily Writing Prompts discussion

I keep forgetting what day it is.

Anyway, I hope you are having a fabulous moment right now, but if you are not, I send my deepest wishes.

- Create an idea of a fictional or past character who is in your shoes. A journal entry of what is going on in your life, whether it happened yesterday, or a week ago, makes it be in your character's mind. -

This prompt is mainly targeted as a journal entry, and you do not need to expand on what you are going through to share your ideas.
I know this is a very sensitive topic, but just share what is going on in your life–you do not need to be specific about what exactly happened to you–through your character's voice. Please add trigger warnings to be respectful of other members if your writing is explicitly addressing sensitive topics.

Thank you, lovelies!! Have a great day and happy writing!!

I check my phone again. The red dots aren't there. I close it off and place it on my desk only to pick it up again. My fingers itch when i don't see those inviting red dots on my screen. It burdens my heart.

Itis not like I used to be like this. I never used to be like this. But something in me has shifted. My wrist is chained to my phone and my fingers are programmed to click onto that tiny little box that shows me my msgs.

It's a Saturday. No school. But no school means no people. I thought you didn't like people say to myself. I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be wanted. I want someone to think of me. I want someone to want to want to talk to me. Even if it is garbled nonsense. But mostly if they peel inside my layers, when I can't do it for myself. Real life people don't do that.

Those red dots do that sometimes. Mostly not. But some red dots are nicer than others. They listen. They share. They are real. They peek into my life and the conversations flow. I don't feel so alone anymore.

You are pathetic for finding solace in people whose faces you haven't seen, I tell myself. Maybe, I am. But real life doesn't feel so good that I wanna stay in it anymore. Everything is better in this little block of solidness which has my right now non existent red dots.

Why don't red dots come as fast as I want them to? i tell myself. But why do you cuff yourself to them? Why does your psyche but gravitate to it? Why do you find solace in strangers? For this, I know my answer. It's because in real life people don't care when you are not in front of them anymore.

I see a red dot now. My hope swells.

I forgot to copy and paste yesterday, so here's my entry:

I wake up to the sound of laughter. It’s always laughter on the weekends.
My dad is on the phone with my grandma. She lives miles away, but it always feels like she’s right there.
They’re always loud, and I used to get annoyed. But now I think I’d rather wake up knowing my grandma is alright than sleep in, losing precious time.
This is why I am both a night owl and an early bird. Well, more of a natural night owl and a forced early bird. I need to live as much as I can because I already feel time slipping away.
I’m young, or so it seems. But there’s that lingering sense that I’m not doing everything I could possibly do, and it aggravates me. Today is a day when I want to make the most of every minute.
So I jump out of bed and run to the mirror. Make the best of it. Or else your last day of rest could be just that. Rest.
Don’t get me wrong, I love doing nothing. Sitting around is a fine use of time, but not today. My outfit is going to be perfect, my hair flawless, and I’m going to show everyone that I’m the person who gets things done.
When I’m ready to get out of the house, I notice three things.
One, my dad is still on the phone with my grandma.
Two, everyone is still in their pajamas.
And three, the clock says 10:52.
Not to be that person, but why aren’t we up and moving? Why is everybody taking it slow? Time is running out! It’s almost lunchtime, and we have just started breakfast.
Of course, I don’t say any of it out loud. Their state of mind is on a different plane than mine, and I have to respect that. My weekend is for making the most out of the week, when I despise the rest of it. Their weekend is for slowing down, while the other days rush them. I want to rush them too. And I almost do.
“I’m ready to go,” I say.
“Don’t you want to eat first? “
. . .
I eventually cave because I’m a part of this family too. I have to stay because I’m not one who calls the shots. I’m not going to get anything done, I think.
But I do. Because even though it feels like time is moving too fast, it’s not. The time goes by just like every other day. And I have enough time to do everything I want to do that day. Strange how I was so hasty.