Scrap of Crap

Something Mr. Luis Katigbak made us write in our Creative Writing ACLE. The guy made me feel good with his comments - the only time I felt good this past week. And he said something that stuck to encourage us to write - Everyone has 10, 000 pages of crap in them. We need to force it all out. This is a scrap of one of those pages.

When I woke up this morning, I knew something was wrong. The rain fell outside my window, but I took no notice of the river flowing past our house; I was too preoccupied with a strange, somewhat sickening feeling that I had. Getting up from bed, I trudged slowly to the bathroom just outside my door. I switched on the lights and turned the faucet handles when I caught myself in the mirror. My face had an odd, disfigured look; one could hardly recognize me. Had something happened to me during the night? Had one of the birds or bats living in the tree beside our house swooped in through my open window and ravaged my face? Had aliens plastered my face with an odd sort of goo? Bu then it hit me - this was no disfigurement. Sparkling eyes, raised cheeks, slightly showing teeth, an oddly stretched appearance - I was smiling! I finally knew what was wrong.

I was happy.