Waking up didn't always used to be so difficult.
Once there was vigor that told me to embrace the day like it held my destiny and I would toss the blankets aside and run from the room with open arms.
Now the reactions are sluggish at best, and the time it takes to disentagle myself from the warmth of a comforter is becoming longer and longer.
Perhaps it's because I know that there's less and less to look forward for outside of the refuge of a blanket and a mattress, even if the mattress is an uncomfortable one that's been slept on by too many college kids in years gone by.
I know that once I leave my bed to step barefoot on cold tile floors, I don't have the chance to dream an endless dream any longer.
Here I must be the one to make a difference and I can't hope that the recesses of my mind hold the answer to all of the problems and the weapons for every adversary.
Here it is me, and only me, that makes the day what it is.
No, I'm not ignoring the outside forces, good or bad, or the other people around me, but surely it is my sole responsibility to make my life worthwhile, I can't expect your time.
So here I am, and I'll embrace this day with tired arms, and I know that you notice the difference.
Maybe tonight I'll dream again, and maybe then I'll have an answer.
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