Late

Wake up.

You’ve missed your alarms again.

The sun fights it’s way through your closed curtains, reminding you how late you are.

Your mind sits in that blissful period of waking. You know you’re late, you don’t care, the bed is still too warm.

Slowly it comes back.

What you’ve done. Who you’ve spoken to. Why you fell asleep so early. All of it hits like a slap in the face. The bliss melts away into a cold panic.

Get up.

Ripping the sheets off, the cold extends from your insides and out. Shivering from the anxiety or the room temperature? You decide it must be both.

Seven minutes to get yourself ready. Seven minutes to decide if you can do it. Seven minutes to work out what to wear. Do you put on the happy face? Or is today the kind of day where your insides defeat the walls outside? You can’t tell. You’re still asleep. You now have six minutes.

Clothes.

It’s an effort that seems to drain the blood from your hands. An inability to close clasps, button buttons or zip zips. You give up. That will do.

Your routine looks like a blast of chaos but it’s regimented and well practiced. Teeth, hair, bag and out. The same every day. Teeth, hair, bag and out. The same, but everyday you leave different. Is the sun too bright or are your eyes too sensitive? Is today a day where you can’t complete the simple things or are you in control? You can’t tell.

Bin day.

Fuck.

The neighbours are all unsure. Is it yellow only or recycling as well? The street is a mix, some adamant that their recycling must go, others defiant with just their yellow lid bin. It takes too long to take both down the driveway so your decision is based on time and time alone.

Get in the car.

Keys in the ignition and you breathe for what feels like the first time all morning. Is today a good day? Can you make it? Will you get to the end or will you crumble? If you crumble will you be able to put everything back together before returning to this exact spot? You never know.

It’s time to go.

You’re late.