Morning Glory

So I started the day off in the best way possible. All of five minutes into a freshly wakened Thursday, I fell off the ladder leading down from my lofted bed, onto my roommate's ladder just mere inches away, bringing along with me about half of my bedding and a smattering of other dorm room accessories.

Breakfast of champions.

Lying on the floor,  my various bruises, bumps, and scrapes settling in, I felt exhausted. Neither N. nor B. were around to help me up in my crippled state, so I left myself planted. I kept still, letting my muscles and bones throb, adjusting to their recent trauma, and felt a complete sense of uselessness wash over.

It's hard enough to get up in the morning as it is.

These days I'm feeling less confidence in the hours that stretch between crashing out of bed in the morning and crashing into it at night. W., J., and F. seem to have it all figured out. And even B. has a pretty good idea of what she's doing, though perhaps not a crystal clear picture. But I'm still waiting for that to happen for me. 

So until then, it's difficult to say what's better: being out of commission for the whole day due to dorm room battles, or going through with the day looking, acting, pretending to have it together but always looking over your shoulder, knowing that the jig will be up soon enough.

Sometimes you don't realize how important it is to just keep moving forward until you get the wind knocked out of you.