I stretched out my arm through the cold air for the alarm. Its 6:59am. I lay there in a warm bundle staring at the ceiling and then at the cold, blue world outside my window as I grasped for the last bits of comfort before I wake. I grasped my bedsheets ready to yank them off but my muscles were powerless under the its great weight.
It was a futile attempt so I had to resort to staying in bed as I was already closing my eyes. As I slowly drifted from reality, I would reminisce the 9am mornings of my childhood where I watched Spongebob in my parents bedroom and crawled under the bedsheets like a naughty child.
As I was drifting, the familiar yet terrifying alarm rang by my ear — where I left it a minute earlier. It’s 7:00am. Time to get up. The warmth of the bedsheets left me as a cold rush of air enclosed onto me.