"What are you frowning about?" I asked Lizzy as I noticed her deep in thought. She sighed and looked up at me with a troubled expression.
"I can't shake the feeling that Carrie is changing," she confessed. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"I mean, have you seen her wardrobe? All her old clothes have been pushed aside, and a whole new set of—well, decent clothes—has taken their place." She emphasized the last word.
"And what's wrong with decent clothes?" I asked, reaching for a bowl of baobab fruit from the table.
Lizzy shook her head, concern etched in her features. "It's not that there's anything wrong with decent clothes, but this is Carrie we're talking about! You know how she is; decent clothes and Carrie don't usually go together." I nodded in agreement. While Carrie didn't exactly dress provocatively, she did enjoy wearing eye-catching outfits that made a statement.
"Still, there's no need to worry. People sometimes just need a change," I said with a shrug, savoring the tangy flavor of the baobab fruit.
"I get that, but this change seems unhealthy. Ever since this Dave guy came along, Carrie's been different. Have you ever seen her change so drastically for a man before?" Lizzy's question made me pause.
I thought about Lizzy's question, reflecting on the time I'd spent with Carrie. She had always been strong and independent, and I couldn't recall her ever altering herself so completely for anyone. It did seem out of character for her. But since Dave entered her life, it was clear she had been questioning herself in ways she hadn't before.
Here's a refined version of your passage:
"You see, even you think so!" Lizzy snapped me out of my thoughts. "It's like she's willing to change herself just to fit into his idea of what a perfect woman should be." Lizzy had a point, but I didn't want to overthink it.
"Yes, Dave is different. Unlike her other suitors who would do anything to please her, he's a challenge. And we both know how Carrie loves challenges and will do anything to get what she wants." I raised my hand to stop Lizzy from interrupting as I continued.
"You're not reacting like this because of your high school love, are you?" It seemed I was onto something, judging by the way her resolve wavered.
"Okay, maybe a little," Lizzy admitted. "But you can't blame me for being concerned. I've been there—I tried to change for that guy and ended up forgetting about my friends. The scariest part was not even realizing I was changing. What I'm saying is, I hope Carrie doesn't change so much that she forgets about us." Lizzy sighed.
"Don't worry, Lizzy. If she dares forget about us, then we will kidnap her and drown her in the nearest river until she comes back to her senses." I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Lizzy chuckled, appreciating the attempt at humor.
"And if she doesn't, then I will bury her six feet under. If we cannot have her then no one else will." Lizzy said, and I faked a shiver.
"Whoaaa, I knew we were soul mates," I said, giving Lizzy a high-five as we laughed.
"But seriously, not everyone is like that scum. Let's hope this guy is worth it. Have you spoken with your father?" I asked, shifting the topic.
"Nope, but I talked to my mom. Nothing much happened, which makes me wonder what my dad wants." Lizzy sighed, picking up clothes from the floor. As usual, her room was a mess. I almost forgot it was Friday, considering she always cleans her room on this day. Carrie and I tried to keep up with that tradition, but it just didn't stick for us.
Lizzy's room was like a Barbie dream come to life. The walls were painted a soft shade of pink, adorned with delicate wallpaper featuring tiny flowers and butterflies. A plush, white carpet covered the floor, inviting anyone who entered to sink their toes into its fluffy depths.
The centerpiece of the room was a magnificent canopy bed, draped in sheer pink curtains that cascaded down to the floor. The bed was adorned with frilly pillows and a fluffy satin comforter, beckoning you to curl up and drift off into a world of imagination. Even with clothes scattered about, the room retained its charm.
"Why is my life suddenly so exhausting? My dad is snooping around, and my boyfriend is starting to act like a jerk," Lizzy said, frustration evident in her voice. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Liam? What did he do to deserve that label?" I asked.
"He's being difficult. I asked him to record everything that's happened over the past two days in the diary I bought him, and all he does is call it lame. How can he call something I like lame? Isn't that the same as calling me lame?" Lizzy exclaimed.
"I thought we were supposed to support each other's interests, but lately it feels like he's just dismissing everything that matters to me, and it's really getting on my nerves." She sighed, looking down at the clothes scattered on the floor.
"Is that why this is here?" I chuckled, holding up the pink lingerie with Liam's face printed on the front. I remembered how red Liam turned when Lizzy gifted it to him during our Secret Santa exchange last year. It was a hilarious moment we still tease him about to this day. I even managed to capture it on camera.
"As a punishment. There's no way I'd let him live that down without some form of retribution," Lizzy said with a scoff. Liam was a nice, easygoing guy, and he and Lizzy seemed like the perfect match.
While Lizzy was often forceful with her opinions, Liam was patient and understanding, never letting her strong personality overshadow their relationship. His calming presence balanced out Lizzy's fiery nature, making them a well-matched pair.
"Cut the guy some slack. You know how men are with their egos. They think recording things in a diary is... unmanly," I said, propping my feet up on the coffee table.
"Unmanly, my foot. I make an effort to watch football with him so I can understand his interests and spend quality time together," Lizzy retorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't even think about defending him." She said, cutting me off before I could respond.
"How did I forget he's your favorite?" she mumbled. I chuckled as I watched her go back to folding her clothes, understanding her frustration.
Here's a refined version of your passage:
I stood up and walked over to Lizzy, hugging her from behind. Resting my head on her shoulder, I said, "He may be my favorite, but you're the best." Lizzy gave a soft push with her behind, scoffing at my remark, but I could see a smile tugging at her lips.
"It seems like Nick is rubbing off on you. Get out of my room; you're distracting me," she said playfully. I rolled my eyes at her comment but complied, releasing her from my embrace.
"Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your folding," I said with a grin, making my way toward the door.
Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes, grateful for a moment of relaxation. If someone had told me I'd have such an eventful week this month, I would have probably laughed at them.
Many things happened, and as little as those things were, they had a significant impact on my life. Closing my eyes, I found myself recalling, once upon a time, a lively girl who would always stand up in the crowd and loved the attention she received.
The girl who was once so confident in herself and her choices now found herself doubting every decision she made. She liked a man but couldn't discern if her feelings were genuine or just a fleeting infatuation. Her vibrant spirit seemed to have dimmed as she questioned her authenticity and struggled to find her true self amidst the chaos of her thoughts.
I sighed, knowing that no peace of mind was in sight. This is what happens when my thoughts scatter and I have no clear direction. I tend to think about everything all at once, which often leaves me feeling overwhelmed and unable to focus. It's like a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind, making it difficult to prioritize and make decisions.
What I hate most is the feeling of losing control. It's as if my thoughts have a mind of their own, pulling me in different directions and leaving me feeling helpless. I needed things to be in order, and I needed my feelings for him to be clear and sorted out. I was aware of our connection, our attraction—so why was he silent?
What were we exactly? He asked me out, teased me with a kiss, and then... nothing. I found it frustrating that I couldn't predict his next move. Was he just looking for fun, or did he see this as something more? Did he even believe in relationships?
Countless questions swarmed my mind like a flock of restless birds, causing me to second-guess every interaction we had. It felt as though I was walking a tightrope, unsure whether to take a leap of faith or retreat to safety. And there it was again: me overthinking and letting my emotions spiral out of control.
Sitting up from the bed, I reached for the cabinet, grabbed my diary and pen. Writing had always been my solace when my emotions threatened to overwhelm me.
I needed to write down something—anything—to shake off the helplessness I was feeling. It was so frustrating to be caught in this emotional turmoil, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks as I scribbled in my diary.
The words spilled onto the pages, a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions I couldn't quite make sense of. As I poured my heart onto the paper, a sense of relief began to wash over me, gradually calming the storm within. When I finished, I took deep, steadying breaths, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. I placed the diary back on the shelf and collapsed onto the bed.
Lying there, a profound sense of emptiness settled in, leaving me both physically and emotionally drained. It always happened after a breakdown—the memories became a blur, and I couldn't recall the specifics of what I had written. I took another deep breath, letting my eyes wander aimlessly in the dimly lit room until they landed on a photograph.
It was the picture of Nick and me from the photo booth, making silly faces. One frame had Nick sporting a fake mustache and me sticking out my tongue. The sight of that photo brought a smile to my face, recalling the laughter we had shared in that moment. The memory softened the emptiness I had felt earlier.
I don't know how long I stared at the picture, letting the memories of our time together dance in my mind, until I drifted off to sleep with a light heart and a smile on my face. However, my peaceful slumber was abruptly interrupted by a loud explosion in my head.
My body jolted awake as a deafening boom echoed through the room. My heart raced, and my breath came in rapid gasps as I scanned my surroundings, initially wondering if it was a nightmare. But soon, I realized the sound was coming from outside—no, from my door. Someone was banging on it, and that person was none other than Carrie.
"Wake up, everyone! Wake up!" I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath, not wanting to deal with Carrie's dramatic antics so early in the morning. I counted from twenty backward, praying for patience. What I dislike the most is someone disturbing my sleep, especially when it's Carrie with her over-the-top energy and unnecessary drama.
I wanted to ignore her, but the banging continued relentlessly. My last nerve snapped, and I got up from the bed, wincing as a migraine assaulted my temples. I groaned and stumbled toward the door. As I flung it open, ready to give Carrie a piece of my mind, Lizzy's calm voice cut through the chaos.
"Carrie, did someone die?" Lizzy asked softly. Carrie looked momentarily stunned before shaking her head. "Did someone bully you? Did someone get into an accident? Did something terrible happen?" Lizzy continued, her voice growing firmer with each question. The anger she was trying to conceal began to seep through with every "no" from Carrie.
I watched as Carrie's confusion turned to realization, and she spoke up anxiously. "No, Lizzy, nothing terrible happened. It's just that..."
"Then why the hell did you wake us up?" Lizzy finally erupted, her frustration evident. "Have you checked the time, Carrie? It's five in the morning! We were all fast asleep, and you barged in here like it was an emergency!" Lizzy's face flushed with anger as she glared at Carrie, clearly waiting for an explanation.
I leaned against the door, my frustration fading as Lizzy's outburst took me by surprise. It seemed there was no need for me to confront Carrie since Lizzy had already made her feelings known.
"Lizz—"
"Save it, and don't disturb me!" Lizzy snapped, then stomped back into her room and slammed the door shut.
Carrie stood there, stunned and speechless, clearly realizing the gravity of her actions. I sighed, feeling drained from all the morning drama, and turned to head back to my room.
"Mandy..." Carrie whispered, her voice tinged with remorse and regret. I paused and glanced back at her, my expression a mix of exhaustion and empathy.
"Carrie, I understand that you're energetic and enthusiastic, but sometimes you need to think before you act. This isn't the way to wake someone up at such an early hour. You scared me—I thought there was a robbery or something worse happening." My voice was calm but carried a trace of frustration.
"I'm going back to sleep. Please don't wake me up again," I added, before stepping back into my room.
Sleep eluded me once again. Instead, my mind was consumed by thoughts of Carrie. I knew we had been harsh, but it was something she needed to hear. Sometimes, Carrie could be—what's the term for someone who constantly pushes boundaries and disregards others' feelings? Well, that seemed to fit her at times.
Realizing I couldn't get back to sleep, I decided to get up and work on my book. I had been laboring over a contemporary romance novel for months. It told the story of a hardworking, passionate young woman who lived alone with her kindhearted but persistent grandmother, who never missed an opportunity to nag her about finding a boyfriend.
Due to her grandmother's constant prodding, the protagonist ends up fabricating a story about a guy she saw on the bus, claiming he's her boyfriend. Little did she know, she would soon run into that same guy and be swept off her feet by his charm and sweet talk.
{Find out more about the story in my bio, ACTUALLY YOU.}
The story has been a roller coaster, and I was having issues with writer's block and struggling to find inspiration for the next chapter. It's not like I didn't have an idea of what was to happen next; it was that putting it down on paper was proving to be a challenge. It's like my hand was being held back and I could not write what I wanted to convey.
Frustrated, I decided to let it be after struggling for two hours. Checking the time again, I saw it was already 7.10 a.m. I got up and left my room to prepare breakfast, but I was surprised to see a sumptuous breakfast spread out on the dining table.
I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the delicious food. To be precise, it was Lizzy's and my favorite breakfast. It was a plate of fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, and a side of fresh fruit.
There was no one in the diner, but I could bet that this was Carrie's doing. After the drama she caused in the morning, I guess this was her way of apologizing. But as much as I was eager to eat, I could not help but be wary. Carrie was a bad cook, and it made me wonder if the food she cooked was as delicious as it looked.
I took my seat, and as soon as I sat down, I saw Lizzy enter the diner, rubbing her eyes groggily, looking like she had just woken up. Lizzy didn't look surprised upon seeing the feast before her.
" You don't seem surprised," I commented.
"I smelled the aroma from my room." She simply shrugged and mumbled while serving herself.
"I was expecting her to do this. Carrie may not be the best cook, but she definitely knows how to make something smell amazing." I couldn't help but chuckle at Lizzy's remark. Carefully, I bit into the pancakes, and my eyes widen in surprise as the burst of flavors explodes in my mouth. I looked at Lizzy and found out that she had the same look of astonishment. The food was actually delicious!
"Whoa!" We both exclaimed in unison, our taste buds dancing with delight. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that Carrie's cooking skills had improved significantly.
"Oh, you guys are awake." Just then, Carrie entered the dining room, carrying two cups of coffee on a tray. What surprised us the most was what she was wearing under the white apron. Lizzy opposite me choked on the bacon, while my mouth dropped open in disbelief.
Carrie was so decent. Like really decently dressed.
"How do I look?" she asked, placing the cups on the table before swirling around.
What Carrie was wearing was something we'd never seen her in—not that it was bad; as a matter of fact, she looked beautiful, classy, and debonair.
Dressed in a grey solid layer asymmetric side pants—which one had to look to notice—matched with a black pull neck tucked in where there was a huge bow on the waist tied stylishly. Her outfit was a perfect blend of sophistication and modernity, showcasing her impeccable sense of style. It was evident that Carrie had put a lot of thought into her ensemble, as every detail seemed carefully chosen to create a stunning overall look.