My alarm clock ringing in the background. Footsteps of my mother, busying herself while contemplating whether to disrupt my blissful sleep or not. My sister turning beside me, shaken by the sounds.
And then I wake up.
Keeping my eyes closed, I gather the energy and courage to sit up as I listen to the sounds around me. And then I sit up. The first thing I do is glance around the room, checking if I was still in my room and had not been kidnapped while I was asleep, being the paranoid that I am.
After a few minutes of sitting, I walk toward the bathroom in a very sloth-like manner and, at times, a headache interrupts my slow pace and makes me rub my temples, simultaneously walking.
And then I continue my day, awaiting the heavenly sleep at night, not bothering to think about the disappointment of waking up.
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Word for this post: Torpor
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