The Comfort of Home

My home shelters my family and me. I can smell the pizza as it comes out of the oven. I jump onto my bed and crack open a new book, inhaling the fresh scent of untouched pages. I sink into the story, losing myself in the words. Almost instantly, my alarm clock snaps me back into reality. I slowly walk toward my piano and dreadfully practice the song for what feels like hours before my practice finally ends. My mother calls me to eat dinner, and I hurriedly dash to the kitchen. I eat the pizza as fast as I can. Afterward, I get on the computer and play with my friends. I smash every button on my controller and keyboard, desperately trying to turn it on faster, but it is futile. I still have to wait the whole ten seconds for my computer to start. I get on a call with my friends as we play our game, raging against the hackers who have to cheat to win. Finally, I jump onto my bed right after playing and collapse instantly into sleep, dreaming of eating, practicing my piano and violin. This is my home.