Tomorrow is a new day of repeating the same cycle



leftover morning dew on a car window on one of my few mornings that will never be replicated

The first thing my dreary eyes are greeted with is an obnoxious beeping noise and flashes of blue light that seem to occupy even the darkest corners of my bedroom.

I drag myself from a cocoon of blankets that have become entangled with my legs. They grasp onto me as if they don’t want me to leave. The cold air that greets me is a bitter hello and reminds me of the head-aching, hair-wrenching, eye-watering day ahead.

I sweep my long curls off my shoulders and throw them up onto my head; it doesn’t remove any of the weight resting on my shoulders, but I hate the way it tickles my ears. The steady swing of my keys is a nice, firm reminder that I am present. 

I always eat a bowl of cereal; I’m a creature that enjoys habit and routine, yet my worst fear in life is for every day to become that same boring trek. I might already be headed down that path. 

The day always seems to race by at a speed equivalent to a tortoise; it’s a never-ending string of Tuesdays in which I’ll never escape.”

The five-minute drive to school is filled with my siblings usual bickering over the radio station as the same song I’ve heard every day plays through my speaker. I’m starting to lose my patience with things as trivial as radio stations that claim to play today’s hits and then don’t.

As I walk into the building, my keys still sway back and forth in my hand, but it does little to calm my racing heartbeat that seems to only speed up the closer I get to the doors.

The day always seems to race by at a speed equivalent to a tortoise; it’s a never-ending string of Tuesdays in which I’ll never escape. 

I’ve recently only been attending school on Tuesdays and Fridays; for an individual who loves routine and hates consistency at the same time, this has been like living in a nightmare for the entirety of this year. 

I spend my days at school begging myself to pay attention and for my eyes to focus on the whiteboard; my days at home, the best I can do is try. 

What’s more water to an already sinking ship?

Most days, I don’t even get a break once school is over. I scramble to finish assignments before heading to work. Most days, the ‘turn in’ button seems to taunt me. Most days, I fall asleep before finishing the entirety of my homework.

What’s more food on an already overflowing plate? 

I fall asleep smelling like autumn squash soup. My need for exciting adventures will overshadow my love of routine.

I then wake up to that same blue light the next morning, and it begins again.