You awaken, swaddled in your Bed-in-a-Bag set, to a peaceful silence. The sun streams in through the university-provided curtains and...

Wait, silence? Why isn’t your alarm going off? What time is –

Oh, no.

Oh, no no no no no no.

You’ve overslept and your class starts in ten minutes.

Immediately, you launch yourself off that memory foam mattress topper that your mom found online and start jumping around the room looking for clothes that won’t tell the world that you aren’t a laundry enthusiast.

You catch a glimpse of your face and realize that your sheet-mark-imprinted, drool-covered mug needs some serious improvement, so you slap on a layer of foundation with your unwashed fingers while trying to find your homework.

In your panicked attempt to get ready, you knock something over and wake up your roommate, who asks you why you’re jumping around like a rabid, half-dressed gazelle. You see your clock and notice that you’re falling even further behind schedule and spit out a half-formed sentence to explain what’s going on.

At this point, you know you’re going to look about as good as Britney felt in 2007, so you start sprinting down the hall, out your dorm, and across campus. Every student is walking at a snail’s pace while you hurdle by. You’re not trying to get a weird reputation by running across the campus like there’s a second Black Friday sale at Target, but you’ve got to get to class.

It seems your fortunes have changed! Guess who made it to class with mere seconds to spare?

It’s also a lecture day! Participation points? As if! You showed up, and for that, no one should criticize you.

Alas. Out of nowhere, it hits you like Bandit falling from the ceiling.

You’ve had exactly zero cups of coffee and nothing to eat.

You know that you should be taking notes, but you can barely keep your eyes open.

You yawn, stretch, and close your eyes for what seems like half of a millisecond, only to open them again to see the professor changing slides. You instinctively lean over to see your well-caffeinated friend’s computer screen to copy down what you've missed, but they’re online shopping, so you’re out of luck.

You try to focus on what your professor is saying, but you’re in a complete fog. All you can hear is this:

Of course, your digestive track takes this moment to announce to the entire room that you’ve been awake for all of 20 minutes by rumbling like Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. Everybody breaks out in whispers and giggles, and some people turn to stare, but you just can’t be bothered to care…

…until, of course, that one goody-two-shoes turns and snidely whispers, “Whoa, you look like you got hit by a bus!” – and you do, but you just don’t have time for that kind of negativity.

Your friend takes a break from their shopping spree to come to your defense. She takes that teacher’s pet to town with her crafty words and effortless comebacks. It’s a complete verbal smackdown.

Your friend then comforts you with her kindest words. She even compliments your glasses, which you’re only wearing because you had neither the time nor the motivation to put in your contacts.

Unfortunately, you two were speaking a little bit too loudly and the professor calls you out. You didn’t ask for Prissy Pants to criticize you! This isn’t your fault! You immediately shoot that girl a look that can only mean one thing:

Your professor asks for an explanation as to why you were talking during their lecture. You try to answer, but you’re still too tired to really function at anything higher than 30 percent.

For some reason, your professor decides to really make an example out of you. It looks like you aren’t the only one who’s having a rough morning.

You know what? This class is a core requirement, but you just don’t really care about it, and you shoot daggers at your professor with your eyes for the rest of the lecture, clearly letting them know what you think about them and the subject material.

Finally, the clock says that it’s time for you to be freed from this three-credit-hour prison, and you leave class with so much enthusiasm that you practically take out an entire tour group of wide-eyed high school juniors and seniors and their parents.

You come back to your dorm, and your roommate is there to applaud you for attending class, even though you look like your life is in complete shambles. (Which it is, because this is college.)

You know that (all things considered) you’ve done a good job today, and you openly admit it…

...but later that night, you turn the volume on your alarm way up, so that this nightmare never happens again.