I go to bed too late.
Every night, even though I have to get up early, I lay awake well into the darkness. Despite my efforts of laying down at 10 p.m. and taking my three melatonins, I can't succumb to sleep.
Every morning my alarm goes off at eight o'clock sharp. I hit snooze three times, sometimes four if I'm extra exhausted. In a blur I go through the motions of my morning; brush my teeth, brush my hair, deodorant. The usual. I'll shove on the cleanest and nearest outfit I have, and out the door I go.
I'm so used to the route I take to school that most days I find myself zoning in and out. How did I even end up at campus? It's all a dangerous blur. Get to school, drive a few circles around the main parking lot, and then go to the farthest lot once I've determined I won't get a close spot. Walking across the lots I'll see at least a dozen empty spots that weren't there ten minutes earlier.
Go to class.
Be disappointed in my lack of acquaintances I have, sit in my same seat even though college doesn't call for assigned seats, and listen to everyone else talk and laugh. Try to put in my two cents, but end up with dry looks all around, so I turn back to myself.
Leave class as soon as time is up, because I'm that person. Run into people who pretend to be interested in my life.
"Hey! How are you?"
"I'm fantastic, thanks for asking."
Sit in a similar seat to my previous class, just because it's become a routine. What am I even learning? Nod along to what my professor is saying even though I don't have the slightest clue as to what is going on. Eventually give up on listening and doodle the same doodles I always find in my notebooks. Leave as soon as the time is up, because if I sit any longer I'll fall asleep.
Run into more people I vaguely know.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm doing great, thank you."
Default answer. Default mode.
Last class, I can do this. Sit in the front seat, because I made the mistake of picking that spot ten weeks ago and I can't change it now even though there's no assigned seats. Try not to yawn too much, but fail. Doodle flowers as I look out the window's slits in the blinds, into dreariness. Nod along as much as I can, until I can pack up my books and leave.
Walk twenty minutes to my car and curse all the open spots I see on the way. Drive the same route home, listening to the same music I did that morning and I do every day. Park in the same spot in front of my house that I always do.
Not hungry, even though my stomach tells me otherwise. Do homework as long as my brain will let me before I switch over to Netflix. Stay up until the bags under my eyes have gotten twice as dark as they were yesterday. Force a snack down my throat even though I'm not hungry, so I won't throw up my melatonin. Lay in bed at the same time I do every night, wondering how long it will take me to fall asleep tonight. Eventually fall asleep, only to wake up what seems like minutes later.
Repeat it all over again.