by thefoxdraws

Sometimes I wake up very early.  Sometimes it’s to finish homework, and other times it’s simply because I cannot stay asleep.

It starts with my soft alarm.  An irritating and rather ugly song, it effectively leads me to open my eyes.  My eyes feel so sour, though.  My heavy eyelids protest.  The ends of my mouth protest too, tugging downward a little at the pure dread I feel toward waking up.  I sit up slowly, there in bed.

I place my hands on my face, covering my eyes, hiding my eyes.  I begin to sob – but I stop trying.  I’m too tired to sob.

The hardest part is dragging myself out from under the warm white covers.  My pajama pants are a little torn.  They’re loose, too, a hand-me-down from some cousin.  I’m cold.  My bare arms are cold.  There is no in-between; my arms are frozen and my shoulders are warm, almost feverish.

I used to love mornings.

I walk a little ways toward the door, just enough so I can peek out at my parents’ room across the hall.  It’s so dark.  I’m quite terrified of the dark.  Their doorway is a black rectangle against a blue wall.  I want to run out and turn on the hallway light.  But that would wake them up.  I tiptoe through the dark hallway.  I am so terrified.

I used to love mornings.  The dark didn’t matter so much.

I think of him.  He had fallen asleep while we were talking last night.  It makes me so sad when that happens, though I’d never admit it to him.  I feel very alone when he stops replying.  Within a few minutes of his quietness, I text him with a “good night” and a little smiley face.  I wouldn’t want him to wake up knowing I was sad when he fell asleep.

I am so sad.

I am very lonely without him.

This morning I want to text him a “good morning” and tell him all about how lonely I feel.  He will care, I know.  But it is so very early in the morning, I wouldn’t want to wake him.  Maybe he will wake up late for school and not be able to read it before seeing me and so I will feel very awkward just seeming okay at school but still have the thought of the lonely text hanging around.  I don’t know.  I hate mornings.

I hate this morning.