I wake up evidently incohesive.
I wake up to my mother offering me breakfast, waiting for my reply of disjointed words that may never, ever form a coherent answer. I wake up to my twelve-year-old sister noisily digging through my side of the bathroom while she thinks I’m asleep and ignorant.
I go to school every day, convincing myself that I’ll just catch up on sleep during the weekend—I’ve said that for the past five weeks.
Sleepless nights caused by senior events, homework, college applications, TCT work, my Common App Essay, spending hours in the studio, and attempting to squeeze in quality time with my family have been ever so frequent since I started my last year.
I yearn to focus on soaking up the last few high school football games, the last Dance Team performances, and the last moments of fall I’ll never unsee. But I can’t. Right now, I have bigger problems like completing my college applications, perfecting my essay, and praying that my letters of recommendation are good enough.
I will continue to brew my coffee in first hour, switching on and off between correcting an error in pending and taking a sip of my ammo for the day. I’ll continue to appreciate the words of wisdom emerging from the poems we read in third-hour Literature. I will continue reassuring myself that I will look less fatigued for the next day to come.
But I will also keep on planning my Friday night light outfits throughout the week when I doze off during class. I’ll continue to buy myself a Starbucks fall drink when I’m struggling, and I’ll continue taking advantage of my weekends with my friends because next year, I won’t be able to.
I do deserve some fun during these fidgety few months.
And even though I wake up evidently incoherent, I’m trying. I’m trying my best. I’m giving my all while still feeling weakened from the aspects of being a senior. Yet I have to remember that it’s okay for me to stay out late on Saturday night with the people I enjoy, and it’s okay for me to save all my busy work for Sunday afternoon—as long as I’m soaking up the last moments I’ll have with my favorite people in the world.
So I’ll keep tricking my mind into believing I’m not tired. I’ll keep relying on a Celsius to whip my brain into shape during the day. And I’ll keep using senioritis as an excuse—because right now, that’s all the alibi I can offer.