I am counting the hours until I get to be free from seven hours in a building that brings stress to all who enter. To two entire months of lengthened daylight where I can't see my breath in the air. But I'm not there yet. So I go to high school every morning and sleep an average of three hours each night because it's my job. I don't get paid, sometimes I don't even get fed, and they can punish me for doing my obligated job not up to par. Remind me again why I thought growing up would be a good idea?
I haven't been sleeping much, but last night was a particularly restless one. I fell asleep holding an open package of chocolate Goldfish (they're better than they sound, trust me), and unfortunately for me, I like to toss and turn in my much needed (and lacking) dormant hours. I woke up an hour later because my bed had turned into a snack bowl from last night's party. Being too lazy to actually clean them up at one in the morning, I did the only smart thing that a sensible half-asleep young woman would do: I ate them all. All. Of. Them. That was an unopened bag at 6 p.m..
Life, why do I even bother to try and make sense of you?
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