Beep, beep, beep…

Beep, beep, beep…

The atrocious sound of my alarm wakes me from my deep sleep. A wonderful dream ends abruptly because of a sound that gives me PTSD. Every day that I hear this ghastly noise, I begin to hate it even more.

My eyes open just enough for me to see the darkness of my room early in the morning. Seconds pass before I can gather enough energy to move. A loud groan escapes my mouth as I reach for the snooze button.

Burying my face into the fluffy pillow under my head gives me five more minutes of sleep. I will take whatever I can get at this point.

Beep, beep, beep…

Beep, beep, beep…

Once again, I am awakened by my roaring alarm. I angrily turn it off and lay on my back staring at the ceiling. The darkness surrounds me, making it seem like I am the only one awake. Outside my window, only a few creatures are moving through the morning dew.

I can hear people above me in the kitchen. I begin to track the movement, determining how long I have until they arrive. Footsteps are getting closer and closer; the stairs creak under the pressure of feet. The shuffling increases in volume as the distance between them and my door decreases.

I have visitors.

A beam of light enters my room and gets larger as the door opens. Turning onto my side, I try and avoid the glow to protect my sensitive eyes.

My mom’s soft voice tells me it’s time to get out of bed. I sigh, letting her know that I am aware. A cold, damp nose nudges me and whines. He searches for attention that I just don’t have to give at the moment.

I patiently wait for them to leave and tell myself I will get out of bed. But I don’t.

I stay in bed until the last possible moment. It is not only because I don’t want to, but I can’t. My bed is like quicksand, and I sink into its soft frame. The blankets wrap themselves around me and hold me tight, making it extremely hard to move.

For a little while, they protect me from the world outside my four walls.

I eventually muster up the courage to leave the warmth of my bed and enter the cold air. I shiver as my body adjusts to the chill.

My stomach grumbles as I trudge down the hallway towards the stairs. My limbs feel heavy and limb from my long sleep. The short walk to the staircase seems like it goes on for miles.

Walking up the stairs is a slow and long process. I feel as if I am hiking up a mountain.

I finally reach the kitchen and slump down on a stool. Trying not to fall asleep while I eat my breakfast is the hardest part of my morning so far.

The world is still quiet, and I want more sleep. However, this is just the beginning. I still have a long day ahead of me.

Unfortunately, this is what most of my mornings look like. The thirty minutes that this all happens in are excruciating.

I am never ready to wake up to my beeping alarm.