Is it over yet?

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It’s 6:15 a.m. and my alarm just went off for what seems like the millionth time this year. My constant early waking each day has turned into the agony every high school student could resent. The night before, I was up until 1 a.m. studying for an anatomy test, a math quiz, and preparing myself for the AP exams this week. At this point, it’s 6:20 a.m., and my mom just turned on the light of my room to make my eyes squirm with discomfort, forcing me to wake up.

Now, it’s 6:25 a.m., and my sister and I are fighting over the mirror and space in the bathroom to get ready.

“Don’t drop the ball yet.” That’s what my mom said after I complained over the stressful, never-ending amount of work I have to complete before graduation. Every minute of every hour I have to constantly remind myself that this is the storm before the calm, and soon both my academic and extracurricular work will pay off.

But is it over yet? I feel like I’ve been trapped in a bubble that won’t free me. ”

But is it over yet? I feel like I’ve been trapped in a bubble that won’t free me. I’m a hamster on a wheel that can’t figure out how to get off, but there are only five days left.

It’s 6:30 a.m. now, and after constant bickering, I managed to get the bathroom to myself. This is probably the only time I’ll have to myself for the day. I closed the door to block out the noise of family downstairs.

To my right, I opened the drawer to grab the concealer that I placed on the purple puff under my eyes. I used my ring finger to dab it into my skin. I felt satisfied and called it good for the day.

Now, it’s 6:45 a.m., and I was disappointed of the bed head I currently wore.  I quickly scrambled for a curling iron to at the very least fix the bad pieces.

To add to my tiring routine, I burnt my finger on the iron. I turned on the cold water from my sink and ran the red, hot skin on my finger under the ice cold water. The time I have left is slowly slimming.

I walked back into my room and looked for my digital clock with bright, red numbers. It’s 6:55 a.m., and I still haven’t picked of anything to wear.

With the wanting to give up, I used the little laziness I had to pull out a pair of black leggings and the long-sleeved orange Hope College shirt.

I hear my mom calling from downstairs “Are you ready yet? You’re going to make us late.” I opened my closet one last time to look for a decent pair of shoes and grabbed socks from a drawer on the other side of the room. I take out the plug that was charging my laptop from the night before and slumped my way down the stairs.

It’s 7 a.m. now. My sister is angry because I’m not as tentative as her in the morning. She’s only in middle school. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to get up in the morning yet, or why night hours of studying are so carefully needed.

She grabs my laptop from me, quickly placing it in the laptop sleeve in a sense of irritability.

With a few minutes to spare, I slouch in a chair at the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of Special K’s Honey and Oats cereal with some milk.  I barely have any time to eat. My sister has already ran outside to the car, squealing that I’m still not ready yet.

I ran back up the stairs to brush my teeth, making it goal to finish in under a minute.

After I ran back down the stairs, I grab a lightweight jacket in the coat closet.

It’s 7:05 a.m. now, and I’ve walked out of the door to go to the school. And in the brisk, chilly weather, I whispered under my breath, “Is it over yet?” The heat of my of breath slowly vanishes like that thought. I must continue on for the day.

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