Morning

The alarm clock pierced through the five-in-the-morning silence, even the cat groaning at the disturbance. The snooze button was never an option, lest be put up for adoption. The alarm turned off, I swung my feet off the side of the bed wondering the entire while, “why didn’t I press snooze?”

I hate eggs – especially their taste. Its unappealing, metallic gloss stared back at me, mocking my reluctance. Each bite makes sure to stay thick, grainy, and hard to swallow – precisely long enough to solidify my hate. But everybody says they’re good for me, so I swallow them down with no time to chew. Heading outside, I know I should. The morning rays begin to shine, just enough to blind me. An unspoken signal, I lace up my shoes

Panting, not air, but fire from the Inferno fills my lungs. Sore everywhere, and legs in despair, I stumble into the dark kitchen. Shapes to fill the lack appeared with the light. The house is starting to awaken, preparing for the day ahead.

I step out of the shower and am immediately cold, dripping. A shivery grip grasps my bones. The brief warm reprieve has given way to a damp, lingering chill.  Morning is my everlasting foe. Luckily, school comes next and it’s time to go. So like I’ve done before, I bring myself to the door. For not much longer, these same motions I’ve got to endure – this routine can feel like an endless chore. But I know that I’ll miss it for shore.