Personal Narrative: Olivia

Every morning, I go through the same agonizing routine. Wake up to my alarm clock screaming at me, eat a chocolate-chip croissant with strawberry milk while watching the glamorous, yet slightly annoying, Olivia Morgan and the rest of the cheesy morning news cast. Olivia is the type of person that can make you want to take a step back from life and look at how miserably bad you have done compared to her, though, at the same time, makes you want to gouge your eyes out every single time you hear your little yelpy voice. Looking at how long and perfectly curled her blonde hair is, and how aligned her white teeth are, and how her cheekbones and so defined makes me wish God put some extra work into my making like he did into hers. However, as soon
Fitzgerald. Ms. Fitzgerald is divergent in saying the very least. She expresses her feelings and desires in ways that would most likely be strange for the normal human to wrap their head around. Her entire life is one big hyperbole of big words and drastic expressions. For the most part, they are all decent to have to spend every day with, other than the fact that Susan has this ridiculous lisp that makes me want to hit my head up against a brick wall a million times, Jewel has this stuttering problem that she says she only gets when she is nervous, so she must always be nervous, though she is adroit when it comes to cutting out designs, and Amber is practicing on her cooking skills to impress her boyfriend’s mom, so she is always baking these delicious looking treats for employees to eat throughout the day, smelling them makes my mouth water, but she always puts peanut-butter in everything she makes, even though I have repeatedly told her if I eat a peanut, I will die, as if she is killing me. Then, there’s Rachael. She is worse than the lisps and stutters and poisonous treats that I have to live with on a daily basis. All of the ‘Yes ma’am Ms. Fitzgerald’ the ‘I love that color on you Ms. Fitzgerald’ makes me throw up in my mouth. I don’t even know how she got hired here, she always wears these two knotty, ugly pig-tails that aren’t even on her head, and always
“Now girls, it’s Sunday.” She says, “and y’all know what Sunday is!” She says again. We all look at each other in silence. “It’s a perfect day to kill our competitors with fashion!” She yells, “We have to murder them with our new pieces!” She yells again before leaving the room. She always comes up with these corny things to keep us ‘entertained’. Work is actually going by smoothly for a change today. Everyone is minding their own business, doing their own things. Which is strange, because at least someone is always messing with someone else around here, making fun of their clothing lines, messing with their food from the lounge, putting down notes around our office areas, moving different things around the room, all sorts of things. After my late lunch with Amber, I return back to my desk to finalize my line and send it to Mrs. Fitzgerald. There was a problem though, when I turn on my computer, nothing is there. My piece is gone, disappeared.
“No!” I yell tapping at my computer screen, “What? What happened?” I ask myself hitting the mouse of my computer. I see Rachael look at me, and then hear her laugh.
“You!” I yell walking her way, “You