Yanked from peace by the harsh electronic sound—a sign of the chaos to come. Fumble with your phone, your eyes squinting at the screen, swipe to silence.
Take a deep breath, head still resting comfortably on the pillows. Your breathing is the only sound that fills the room—in, out, in, out—steadily waking your mind. Roll over under the blankets and messy hair falls in your face; your eyes flinch. Half-heartedly brush it away and with your hands, or let it remain there—frizzy strands tickle your nose.
You close your eyes in denial of what you know you must do. Your mind grasps reluctantly for reality while keeping one foot still planted in the peace you had just a moment ago. Inside the darkness, there are no expectations to meet, no work to be done, no social lives to be lived. Just you, and you alone.
You force your eyes back open a moment later, remembering the last time you accidentally slipped back into slumber and the terrible rush that came when you woke again, so close to missing class. You shift to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. Eyes start to un-focus, mind wishing, longing for the comfort and simplicity of this moment to remain inside you forever.
You search for a reason that you should rip yourself from the security of this moment, the only place you feel truly comfortable. Ask yourself why it matters so much that you go join the rest of the world. Does forcing myself to go through this routine really make a difference? Will any of the work I put myself through actually matter in the long run?
These thoughts keep poking at your mind, sticking their tentacles out from the wall behind which you try to shove them. Finally, the only way to stop them is by forcing yourself to fight their weight. Make one, swift movement. The blankets clump as you sit up, a mound of textures curled in your lap. Your shirt is twisted and wrinkled all around your body. Hair falls to your shoulders and cascades down your back, disheveled and knotted.
Everything feels heavy; your hands rest lifeless at your sides, arms refusing to lift them. Back straining to remain upright and hold the weight of the world. Make yourself slowly ease your legs towards the edge of the bed, leaving the warmth of the blanket pile behind. When your feet finally hit the cold floor, a bolt shoots through your every muscle.
Every nerve in your body fires off at once; suddenly the eyes don’t feel so heavy anymore. Hands find your face and rub the last remains of comfort and sleep from your eyes. The tips of your fingers having some feeling in them, your arms feel alive again, enough to stretch towards the ceiling, reaching for the motivation to rise.