It has been a horrible day. Probably one of the most horrible day of my seventeen year old life. The kind of day where you want to go into hibernation… or maybe it’s technically called a coma for humans, and not wake up until all of the pain and the memories are gone.

Today my boyfriend broke up with me. My boyfriend of three years. The same boyfriend who promised me forever. The same boyfriend who I gave the one thing from me I could never get back.

Then I figured out I was getting a fifty-five in English after I worked my ass off getting it up from a twenty-two. It’s kind of funny though because I want to be an English major. And I was failing. Of course, I think I’m partially excused because I don’t know plays. This year will be over and I’ll be doing fine again. Unfortunately, my parents don’t agree with that theory. Neither will the colleges I apply to.

Then I got to lunch and someone tripped in front of my table and got spaghetti sauce all down the front of my already tear stained shirt. And my books. And my hair. And the extra credit project I was working on in English to pass. The one I’d been working on for three weeks. Ruining it.

Oh, and don’t let me leave out that while I was on my way to clean myself up in the bathroom, they said I couldn’t go because I didn’t have a pass. I sat arguing with the hall monitor about how it’s bull crap that we can’t go to the bathroom during lunch and earned myself detention.

Then during my math class, the overhead light exploded and I got a shard of glass in my forehead. When I went to the nurse she thought all the spaghetti sauce was blood and passed out. I had to pick the glass out of my face myself and I just went on to my next class.

Because I was the last to walk out of the nurses office, they thought I hit her and I got sent to the principal’s again. Who cares that there weren’t any bruises or anything, or that she woke up and explained it. They brought me in for questioning anyway.

So then on the bus my seat was taken by someone I hate and the little kid I ended up with threw up on me. People then proceeded to take pictures and video of the fiasco and I stormed off of the bus crying.

I then found the pictures and video on Facebook and tore apart my bedside drawer angrily. But in doing that I found a box of Skittles. I love Skittles, and this was by far the highlight of my day. All I wanted was to eat my Skittles and go to bed, let the sugar high lull me to sleep.

I took a handful and examined the colors in my hand. There were two reds, four oranges, a purple, nine greens, and a yellow. I put the whole lot of them in my mouth and sucked on them until their hard shells wore off and it was a glob of candy I melded together with my tongue.

I enjoyed it, the first thing I’ve enjoyed all day. I enjoyed until I tried to swallow and then I stopped enjoying. I stopped breathing, I stopped tasting. I stopped standing.

No one was home to help me. I couldn’t breath, and I didn’t know how to do the Heimlich on myself. I was going to die.

Things started to get fuzzy as I gagged and coughed. I turned blue and my eyes felt like they would pop out of my head. My life didn’t flash in front of my eyes, like they all say it does. In fact, the only thing I saw was my wall, and the picture of me and my current ex boyfriend. I wonder if he would miss me, or feel bad. They would probably all think it was suicide. It’s every suicidal kid’s idea to gag themselves on Skittles. It’s a colorful death, none the less, and not even just the Skittles. My face was blue, my forehead was read from the little scab, as was my shirt. An interesting death indeed. Well, maybe not.

Just coughing and gagging. And not breathing.

Yep. This was definitely the worst day ever.