Grounded: A Short Story

Responsible.
I despise that word. Nor am I very good at it. My parents went through all the hassle to get my missed work from school, and I forgot it.
Consequences.
I loathe that word. But really it’s just a more complex word for “Grounded.”
So then in a hop, skip, and a jump, I landed myself sitting in my room… Alone. I just simply sat on the edge of my bed, twiddling with my thumbs.
I’m so bored! I complained to myself. So I got up and walked in a couple of circles before having the best idea- I could grab my phone!- Until it was the worst idea- I’m Grounded.
Before I knew it I was sulking back over to the edge of my bed again and playing with my thumbs.
One of the most obnoxious things about being grounded is everything you can’t touch. A

So then I got up and opened the cluttered drawers and pulled something out. Not any glittery gel pens or a drawing of a cat.
It was a piece of paper.
A blank, crumpled, perfect for drawing kind of paper. It was just a single piece of paper, calling out to me. So I picked it up and laid it on my desk. Almost instinctively, I pulled out my chair and started rummaging around for a pencil. The only pencil I could find was unsharpened and dull so luckily since I could leave my room (even though I was grounded) I quietly walked down the steps, hugging the paper to myself and turned the corner into the laundry room.
After sharpening the pencil for an hour, trying to get the perfect point, I sat there. I was completely mind blank. I just stared at my paper looking at it like it was going to be the most beautiful painting in the world.
I’M GOING TO DRAW SOMETHING GREAT! I encouraged myself, silently. I picked up the pencil and raised it high in the air. HERE WE GO, IT”S GOING TO BE AMAZING! I shot my hand with the pencil in it at the paper like a rocket hitting the earth. But as soon as the pencil hit the paper, all that happened was the quiet sound of the pencil tip