“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.”