“What the fuck,” is what I thought to myself, rubbing my eyes as I tried to comprehend that my alarm was supposed to go off fifteen minutes ago.

I shot out of bed, not even bothering to make it, and threw on some clothes that definitely didn’t go together, but I didn’t care. I threw my hair up into a messy ball of yarn on top of my head before I heard my mom yelling at me about my breakfast getting cold.

“I’m coming!”

“It’s getting cold, Anna,” is what I heard from the bottom of the stairs.

“I said I’m coming!” I struggled to get my foot into my sneaker. God. Does that woman ever shut up?

I grabbed my backpack from my desk and flung it over my shoulder before descending the stairs into the kitchen. I inhaled the sweet smell of blueberry waffles as I entered.

“Sorry, Mom,” I said, placing my backpack down before throwing myself at the kitchen table, “I somehow slept past my alarm.”

“Sounds like a chaotic morning.”