A Wednesday Morning

7:45am. As the goosebumps were being ignored, my bones were clattering inside me, fighting against each other at the joints as I painstakingly reach out to the repetitive tune singing loudly on my side table, crying out to its owner for attention and reminding her of a brand new day ahead, waiting to be tackled.
The sun was already up - it never ceases to be on time; encouraging the rest of earthly beings to move along with it. As I sat up and saw the long arm on the mini-clock in front of me pointing to the number 9, I was instantly reminded of the adrenaline ' i'm gonna be late' rush, on this day exactly a week ago. Such a rush only needed to be experienced once, before your inner-self learns its lesson and tells the rest of your muscles to budge at that deadly sight.
My legs weighed a ton more than they usually do, and the moment I stepped into the bathroom, a chill rushed through my veins, reminding me of how essential bedroom slippers can get. "Shit." The first words of the day uttered. Regretting wouldn't change history I figured, so the knobs of the shower were turned on, as I stood mindlessly, waiting for the mirrors to fog.
At 8:15am, I was still deciding on what breakfast should comprise of, only to realise that the bread is still frozen in the freezer, and the water in the kettle wouldn't get the chance to start bubbling before I had to dash out the door to catch the 8:26am bus. The result was a box of 'ice vanilla' breakfast substitute which obviously, being able to grab it from my fridge, automatically gives away the fact that I'm no different from the society we all believe we're not: brainwashed consumers of mass-production and advertising molds.
At the squeak of under-maintained door hinges, I tailed the scrawny four-eyed guy in front of me up the three surprisingly large stairs to pay the tax of public transport use. I had given him the unspoken permission to get in front of me since it seemed like he was eager to escape the aggressive screeching wind that would have lifted him off the ground had he waited another second. Mass does make a huge difference, I figured.

I smiled at the driver, no response.

Great. So maybe listening to Avril Lavigne over and over again on my mini i-pod wasn't helping, but I had to find a replacement for my first day of caffeine detox.

Class was painstakingly long, a minute seemed a century. Never in my life was Spanish class a pain to attend. But as I walked out of class, the pace of time seemed to pick up... quicker... quicker... quicker...