deadbeat woes

I was afraid I had become nocturnal. With nothing better to do, I slept the days away and spent nights watching trashy TV shows, attempting to finish one book, and making a mess out of paints and pens, words and pictures. Sometimes I fiddled with my camera. I also cleaned my room, removing the walls of most of the weird pictures and photos I put up when I was in high school. I didn't mean to become nocturnal. It kind of just happened.
Today I forced myself out of bed by eleven, even though I had once again been up till dawn. It was nice being out of bed and showered before noon, before the sun was even close to setting. My friend came over and we just talked about life. We ended up at Ulta, where my sister tried to find the right shade of concealer (a feat I consider futile and pointless) and some expensive eyeliner. I picked up and put down the same products many times during our long unfortunate stay at that store. I couldn't decide if I really wanted anything or not but in the end, I decided I would never wear Revlon's Fire & Ice lipstick, and that I did not really need OPI's Lucerne-tainly Look Marvelous nail lacquer. As nice as make-up can be to look at, to me putting it on feels like having a bunch of gunk on my face. After Ulta we stopped by the grocery store to pick up chocolate chips and then we went back to my place to make cookies! Or more like I baked the cookies, while my sister and our friend talked to me.
The cookies didn't turn out so perfect because the oven was broken. Even when it is set on "bake", for some reason it broils instead. Despite the malfunctioning oven, the burnt and raw portions of the cookies were equally enjoyable. More so, I enjoyed spending time with my friend.
It's nice to wake up in the morning for once (as opposed to the evening) to know that you will leave the house for once, to spend time with someone you haven't seen in months, to watch the torrential rain rinsing the windshield you are seated under, to know that a world exists beyond the suffocating safety of your parents' suburban home, to feel as though you do exist.